Bonfires at Midnight
by LordAnarchy666
Summary: Harry Potter never had traditions to call his own. What happens when Harry discovers the true magic behind the wizarding world - a culture and a set of beliefs that will set him apart from the Muggles he was raised by? Features a Ravenclaw Harry. First Year complete and posted.
1. Chapter 1

Harry was surprised it took so long for a wizarding family to come by and go through the portal to the Hogwarts' Express. Hagrid hadn't told him how to get to it, only that he had to take King's Cross Platform 9 ¾. If they called it Platform 9 1/2, he may have figured it out, but as it was, he was nervous, until he saw a large redheaded family come through, pushing carts much like his own, then disappear through the wall.

Harry barely waited a second before he rushed right after them, though he closed his eyes at the last second when he thought he would crash into the wall. He was much relieved when he passed right through and on to the hidden train platform.

The Hogwarts' Express was an amazing train, from a time long past. Its name was etched upon the side in gilded bronze, and the train itself was a deep scarlet color. The platform was filled with families, and Harry as startled by the sheer amount of people that must have all been witches and wizard.

Harry wondered how they all got there; since he didn't see any of them go through the portal he just came through. It made him giddy when he could actually say that the answer was 'magic'. He was amazed that such a place could be hidden from the muggles, especially when they walked by with cages with owls in them. Being able to hide a train, with its own set of tracks that went wherever, inside of one of the busiest places in London… the idea was incredible, and he wouldn't have though such a thing was possible a week ago.

There was a clock on the wall that read five minutes to eleven, so Harry quickly pulled his wheeled trunk onto the train, looking to find the first compartment with a free spot. Compartment after compartment was full though, of friends reuniting, and old acquaintances meeting up for the first time in three months. The hallway was clogged too, of people running back and forth. No one paid Harry much mind, he was just a scrawny kid with tapped up glasses, dragging a trunk.

He did eventually find a compartment that wasn't completely full. There was actually only one person in it - a girl. She had hair the color of straw, and black-frame glasses that actually looked stylish, as opposed to Harry's old round ones. Her attention was focused solely on the book in her hands, and she didn't even notice Harry until he spoke.

"Mind if I sit here?" Harry asked nervously. "Most others are full."

The girl looked up, instinctively putting a book mark in pages. "Sure. First Year?" the girl asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "You?"

"Same. I'm Daphne Greengrass," she said, standing up from her seat. Harry was embarrassed to say that the girl was a few inches taller than him.

"Harry Potter," he responded in kind, attempting to store his trunk in the overhead compartment, and struggling.

"Here, let me help," the girl said, coming over and pushing the trunk into place.

"Thanks," Harry said, looking around awkwardly. He decided to sit down across from the girl, who he noticed didn't even attempt to look at his scar or stare at him like all the others he had met. "So, uh, you know a lot about Hogwarts?"

"As much as any other first year, I guess," the girl said. "Both my parents were in Slytherin, so they told me what to expect."

"I see. I only learned I was a wizard when I got my Hogwarts letter," Harry said with a frown. "I live with my aunt and uncle… and they hate magic, so they never told me what I was. But they're the only family I've got, so I'm kind of stuck with them… I've been trying to read everything I can, but there's just so much I never knew about."

"Hmm," the girl replied. "My family has been pureblood for as long as records have been kept, so I should be able to help with any question you have, I suppose."

Harry nodded his thanks. "I'm just curious… how far behind am I going to be? I don't know any magic. I barely know the subjects that are taught at Hogwarts. Are there even any other schools? What do we do once we've finished? I don't even know what my parents did."

"One question at a time," The girl laughed. She stood up real quick to shut the door, as the train had just started to leave. Harry couldn't help but notice that she was pretty. "I know some kids go to muggle schools before they go to Hogwarts. Some purebloods send their children as well, though mostly ones who don't really put stock in our culture. Otherwise the parents teach their kids what they need to know. My mom taught me maths, writing skills, important history, and basic magical theory, I guess. Magic develops as we grow older, so there's a reason Hogwarts starts at age eleven. I learned a few spells though. I can create light with my wand, which is useful for late night reading, tie my shoes, iron my clothes, that sort of thing. Minor stuff."

"I was told that you can't use magic outside of school, not until you're of age."

"If you live in a wizarding household, the Ministry can't tell if it's the parents or a child casting the magic, though it is a loophole in the law. It's tough luck for the Muggleborn, since the law was passed not all that long ago, and it was supposed to help them. If no one is allowed to perform magic during the summer, then the hope is that purebloods and Muggleborns would be on the same level, to make them feel more at home in our world. "

"That's annoying," Harry admitted.

"In a way, it's to prevent accidents. Casting new spells without supervision can end in disaster."

"I suppose. My uncle would probably laugh if I blew myself up," Harry said. "You mentioned purebloods before… My mother was a Muggleborn witch and my father a pureblood wizard, does that make me a halfblood when compared to someone with an actual muggle mother and wizard father? I can't figure out all the intricacies…

"There's no real rule. Some consider a pureblood anyone whose magical lineage can be traced back seven generations, while some think three is enough, as long as you have no living muggle ancestors. Others think anyone born of a witch and a wizard is enough. You'll find a lot of families take a lot of pride in their ancestry, while others don't."

"What do you think?" Harry asked curiously.

"You defeated the Dark Lord, so I don't think your blood really matters. It's what we do that define who we are, not who our great-great-great-grandfather was."

"And if I didn't defeat him?"

Daphne shrugged. "I guess technically you'd be a first generation pureblood, but you'd probably get laughed at if you called yourself that. Don't worry yourself about it though. You can't change how you were born. All the uppity purebloods care about is that you embrace your magical side, rather than your muggle. As for your other questions…. Hogwarts is the largest and most prestigious school in England. There are a few smaller ones, and by smaller I mean like twenty times smaller. There are other schools in other countries, of course. I know the French have a school nearly as large as Hogwarts. As for what adult witches and wizards do… there are a lot of options. My father and grandfather both play Quidditch professionally. Dad is the keeper for the Tornados, and granddad is a beater for Portree."

"Wow, how old is your granddad?" Harry asked in surprise. He couldn't picture an old guy playing a sport professionally.

"Fifty-five," Daphne replied with a laugh. "Dad is thirty-four. Anyways, there's a lot to do after Hogwarts. Some people just go into politics, relying on their families built up investments to sustain them. Most people work though, whether it's making our clothes or harvesting potion ingredients, or selling books. A lot of people work for the Ministry as well –"

"What exactly does the Ministry do? It's the second time you mentioned them."

"Oh, they're our government. Their main purpose is to keep our existence secret from the Muggles. There are a dozen different departments within, maybe more. There's Aurors and Unspeakables and Obliviators, and then there's desk jobs like the people who track underage magic, or control the transportation networks."

"Hmm, I guess there is quite a lot then," Harry admitted.

"You did have one last question, though I won't pretend to be an expert on your family. I know your dad played Quidditch for a year before joining the Aurors for the war. I don't know what your mother did."

"Thank you. That's more than anyone's told me," Harry said honestly. "My Aunt and Uncle won't even let me say the word 'magic' in the house."

Daphne shrugged. "Best to ask questions now then to spend the next seven years at Hogwarts not knowing. A little bit of knowledge can go a long way."

They drifted off into silence so Daphne just picked up her book and started reading. Harry would feel guilty if he kept pestering her with questions, so he just gazed out the window instead. He had a lot to think about with his new knowledge.

A few people came by. The first was an odd boy who had lost his toad, and then there was a bushy haired girl who was ever-so-excited to meet Harry Potter, but was also looking for the odd boy's toad. He wasn't sure why anyone would willingly have a toad, not when owls are so awesome.

Then the lunch trolley came. Harry picked out a bunch of snacks recommended by Daphne, and shared them with her, though she didn't eat much. She explained that Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans really meant every flavor, and that collecting the right set of chocolate frog cards could be redeemed for a prize, anything from a family trip to a racing broom. There were a dozen other candies, all crazier than the last, and he wasn't sure why anyone would want a blood pop or a cockroach cluster.

Harry found himself enjoying Daphne's presence, even as she went from bouts of talkativeness to silence. He'd never had any friends growing up, and the chance to talk to another kid his age without the threat of Dudley looming over him was nice.

The girl was a bit of a nerd though. And by a bit, he meant a huge one. The way she blew the hair out of her face subconsciously as she read was a dead giveaway. Also, the way she'd have to keep adjusting her glasses slightly, that was something Harry could relate too. Harry used to try his best in school, until the papers went home and he got better grades than Dudley, and his relatives were actually _mad_ at him for doing well in school. Hell, she was practically a female version Harry, except a little taller and with budding breasts.

Harry was knocked out of his thought process by the arrival of another person. Actually, it was a group of three people; two large boys (though not as large as Dudley) and a smaller boy with blond hair. Harry recognized him as the kid from Madam Malkin's robe shop in Diagon Alley.

"I heard Harry Potter is this compartment," the boy said, looking at the two kids sitting down. "Hello, Greengrass."

"Malfoy," Daphne acknowledged.

"You know him?" Harry asked.

"Our parents run in the same social circle," the girl explained.

Draco nodded. "I don't think we properly introduced ourselves. I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is Crabbe and Goyle. You'll find that there are some families out there that are better than others, and there are those that would ignore their heritage and forsake what it means to be a wizard."

"Daphne has been telling me as much," Harry said, shaking Draco's hand.

"She's got a good mind," Draco said. "Intelligence is a highly valued gift. With it, you can go far. My advice to you is to not let the narrow-mindedness of the other students hinder your own progress. My grandfather told that to my father when he went to Hogwarts, and now he's a trusted advisor to the Minister himself."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry replied.

Draco nodded again. "I'll see you in a few hours then. Hopefully in the Slytherin common room."

The boy left with his entourage, leaving Daphne and Harry to contemplate the mysteries of the universe in silence.

"So, you think you're going to be in Slytherin?" Harry asked after a few minutes.

"Probably," the girl answered. "Both my parents were in Slytherin, and while that doesn't guarantee that I will be as well, there's a good chance. What about you? Do you have a house preference?"

"I grew up without my parents, so I don't see how I would get in the same house as they were, except by chance," Harry said reasonably. "I don't want to be in Slytherin, no offense, since the man who killed them, and tried to kill me, was one."

"Understandable," Daphne acknowledged. "The house does have a bad recent history."

"So, you and Draco know each other already? Are you friends?"

"Eh, I suppose. Him and his two friends, and a couple others in our year… I don't really like him, but you don't have to like him to be friendly with him. I've met his father though, and Draco is going to act exactly like him. His father is a powerful man, the kind who loves doing favors to cash one out somewhere in the future. Draco will try and do the same thing, and it can't hurt to have an influential friend."

"I get what you're trying to say. It's good to have options, I guess. Plenty of people would be willing to get into my good graces, probably. Stupid nickname."

"You're one of the most famous people in the wizarding world," Daphne said. It was the first time that she had acknowledged his fame. "No one will blink an eye if you use that to your advantage."

"I know. It just feels like I didn't really do anything. I was probably just laying there, crying, and You-know-who did all the rest, and then I'm famous for having my parents killed."

Daphne nodded in understanding, though she opted to not say anything. She didn't know Harry well enough to mark a smart comment, and she didn't want to come off as condescending or inconsiderate.

The train ride lasted into the afternoon. The sun was starting to set, castling long shadows on the train. They disembarked at the Hogsmeade station, which was in the only wizarding town in the country.

Hagrid greeted Harry, which pleased him. Harry was glad to have made it this far, and that his life had taken such a turn for the better. He even met a friend, though he wondered if Daphne would consider him as such.

The half-giant led the first years to a bunch of boats, to cross the lake, while the rest of the students rode carriages up to the school. There were four students to a boat, and Harry and Daphne found themselves with a lanky red haired boy, and a lanky black boy. They didn't say much as the boats raced across the lake by magic. There were rumors of a giant squid living in there, but no matter how much Harry looked, he didn't see a trace.

There were trees growing on the banks of the lake, and Hagrid told everyone that Hogwarts would come into view at any second. When the ancient castle finally did, it took Harry's breathe away.

The castle was huge, and it looked like it was built at random. Turrets sprouted out of turrets, and bridges led to nowhere. There were skinny towers that reached to the stars, and wide towers that were somehow lower than the walls that connected to it. It was all very magical looking, and Harry was already in love with the place.

The castle loomed overhead, larger than any building Harry had seen, even larger than many of the buildings in London. They continued to the castle, and Harry was surprised when the boats went right underneath, through some hanging vines, and right into an underground cavern, where they beached themselves on the shore.

The first-years crawled out of the boats, and Harry extended his hand to Daphne to help her out when he saw the boat starting to wobble, and she took it gratefully before dropping it once they were on sturdy ground.

The torches on the wall cast long shadows over the students as Hagrid walked up towards an oaken double door that Harry hadn't noticed on first glance. The gamekeeper walked up and knocked three slow knocks, and the doors opened almost immediately.

A tall witch (though much shorter than Hagrid) stood at the door. She wore a wide brimmed witch's hat overtop of her black hair, and a pair of spectacles sat on her face. Harry had a distinct impression that she was not one to cross.

"Hello, Hagrid," the witched greeted.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said, swooping his arm backwards to show the assembled kids behind him.

"Thank you," the professor said. "Follow me, and we will get you sorted into your houses."

McGonagall walked through the door, beckoning them to follow her.

"There are four houses here at Hogwarts. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Your house will be like your second home. You will spend much of your free time in your common rooms. Your triumphs will earn your house points, and your missteps will result in their loss. I hope you all will be a credit to your house. I suggest you all smarten up, since the sorting ceremony will be in front of your peers. Wait here while I check to see if the Hall is ready."

McGonagall left through another set of doors, while the first-years waited. They heard a brief cacophony of noise before it disappeared when the door closed.

No one said anything for a few minutes. But then, a blond hair boy spoke up. "So, uh, does anyone know how we are sorted?"

"My brother Fred says we have to wrestle a troll," the red hair boy who went on the boat with Harry said.

"That's bullshit," another kid said. "I heard you have to conjure an ice sculpture of Merlin."

A few kids laughed. "You can't conjure an ice sculpture of Merlin."

"Well to be fair, you can't conjure anything."

There was light banter after that, but Harry could tell that many of the first-years were nervous, himself included. They didn't know how they got sorted, or if they did, they kept that knowledge to themselves. There was some unspoken rule that every student that went to Hogwarts had to sweat how they get sorted, which created many fantastical ideas about what was to come. It was just a small part of the mystique of Hogwarts.

It was a tense five minutes before the doors opened once more, with McGonagall coming in.

"If you will follow me, we will begin the sorting ceremony. You will line up in front of the high table."

The Great Hall was just that - great. Massive. It was the largest room Harry had ever been in, even bigger than his old school's auditorium. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky, and there were millions of stars shining down. They were large iron braziers spaced evenly around the room, with great banners depicting a lion, eagle, snake, and badger, hung in between them.

And then there were the students themselves; five hundred witches and wizards, or somewhere thereabouts, and a dozen teachers as well. There were four great tables that ran the length of the room, one for each house, and then one table raised a few steps above in front of them, where all the teachers sat, looking down on the students. A great grey-bearded wizard sat in the middle of them, on a throne of gold. Harry couldn't help but picture an old king lording over his subjects, with the way the room was laid out.

Harry was lined up with the other students, in no particular order. He could feel the entire hall's eyes upon him, and he had never been more nervous in his entire life. The stern looking professor stood at the head of the column of students and placed a tattered old hat onto an equally tattered old stool. The hat suddenly broke into the most ridiculous song Harry had ever heard, but it did inform them of each house's defining traits, and that the hat would be sorting them based on their personality. Or at least that's what Harry got out of it.

Once the hat was done, Professor McGonagall spoke up again. "When I read your name, you will come sit on this stool and put the Sorting Hat on your head. When it comes to a decision, you will then take a seat at your new house table, and then wait for the rest of your peers to get sorted."

Harry wasn't sure what he expected, what with people talking about fighting trolls and slaying dragons, but just putting a talking hat on seemed sort of… easy. But that didn't stop Harry from worrying about what would happen if the hat refused to put him in a house, and that he was forced to go back and live with the Dursley's… honestly he'd probably just run away and become a street urchin instead of going back there.

The professor started calling off names. Compared to the amount of people already at the tables, and the amount of first-year's name's being called off, his year seemed be small in comparison. The thought didn't cross his mind until later, but it was scary seeing the physical result of the war like that.

A Hannah Abbot and a Susan Bones made it into Hufflepuff, a Terry Boot in Ravenclaw, and the bushy-haired girl from the train made it into Gryffindor. Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy and Draco's two friends made it into Slytherin. Toad-boy Neville Longbottom made it into Gryffindor as well.

When Harry's name came up, the whole hall quieted, and everyone leaned forward, even the teachers. As Harry took his seat, whispers broke out, and more than a few people were pointing at him.

A voice suddenly spoke up, and it took a second for Harry to realize that it was inside his head. "Hmm, yes, Harry Potter, I see. Plenty of courage, yes. Oh, and talent, yes… a lot of talent here. And a mind… a lust to learn the knowledge you've been denied the last ten years, I see that. Ambition too… a thirst to prove yourself. It's all here… but where to put you?

"Not Slytherin," Harry thought back. "Not Voldemort's house."

"Hmrph, you could be great, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness. Slytherin isn't the only house with ties to Voldemort, you know, but perhaps it's not the best fit. Well, if it's not Slytherin…. Better be RAVENCLAW!"

Harry realized the last word was announced to the whole room, and the hat was pulled off his head. There was much cheering from the Ravenclaw table, and polite clapping from the others. Hagrid was giving him a thumbs up, and the headmaster raised his goblet to him. It was all a bit much for him, since all the other kids just got normal clapping. He hated being special for something he couldn't remember.

Harry walked his way over to a free spot on the Ravenclaw table, somewhat in a daze. People he didn't know were clapping him on the back and congratulating him. He barely even noticed that his robes now had blue accents on them to signify his new house.

He found himself shaking hands with Penelope Clearwater, a new Ravenclaw prefect apparently, Su Li, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Padma Patil. The rest of the students got sorted, though Harry didn't catch many of the names.

Once everyone was seated, the headmaster stood up and began a speech. "Welcome, welcome all to another year at Hogwarts! Before we being the feast, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Now go forth and eat!"

Harry blinked once at Dumbledore's mysterious words, wondering if it was some sort of spell, then he blinked once more as the table filled up with food. He had never seen so much food he liked on one table. There was roast beef, roast chicken, pork shops, lamb chops, ham, bacon, steak, potatoes in five varieties, more greens that he could shake a stick at, and half a hundred other foods. It was magnificent.

He tried to fit a little of everything onto his plate, but was quite unsuccessful in that endeavor. He had to settle for merely eating everything on the plate first, and then loading it up a second time with stuff he hadn't tried yet.

By the time Harry had finished, he was fuller than he had ever been in his whole life. And it was excellent food. It was amazing that a staff could make such amazing food for a group of five hundred, yet all he got in primary school was cold shit with a side of piss.

And when Harry thought he couldn't eat another bite of food, dessert appeared. Ice cream, pie, treacle tarts, donuts, chocolate, strawberries, pudding, and other magical types of dessert. And somehow, he found room for it.

During all this, the Hogwarts ghosts poured through the wall in an exhibition, flying around the room much to the delight of the students, though the first-years were scared shitless. Harry saw the Gryffindor ghost show off his near-decapitation, and the Slytherin ghost's tabard had ethereal blood smeared all over it, much to the horror of a pair of first-year Hufflepuffs. The bloodstained ghost took a seat next to Draco Malfoy, who looked less than thrilled by that.

The Hufflepuff's ghost was a fat thing, wider than he was tall and quite friendly, and Ravenclaw's was a hauntingly beautiful woman named the Grey Lady. She settled down at the end of the table, not bothering to talk to anyone. She seemed sad and withdrawn, Harry thought, but he didn't pay the ghost much mind.

Harry was starting to feel warm and drowsy from all the food he ate. He took a minute to gaze up at the teachers assembled. He saw Professor Quirrell whom he already met in Diagon Alley. Next to him was a dour-looking pale man, with long black hair and a hooked nose. The man must have felt Harry looking at him, for he turned and looked right back.

Suddenly, Harry felt a twinge in his scar and turned away. That was most unexpected, since he had never felt his scar twinge before.

Harry turned to Penelope Clearwater next to him. "Hey, who's the man sitting next to Professor Quirrell?"

The prefect looked up at the high table before responding. "That's Professor Snape. He teaches potions, but everyone knows he been going after the Defense spot for years. He hates most students that aren't Slytherin, though if you show yourself to be capable in his class, he shouldn't bother you too much."

Harry nodded in response. Before he could dwell too much on it, the headmaster got to his feet again, and the whole hall fell silent to listen.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, a few start-of-term announcements are in order. First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits. Some of our older students should do well to remember that as well."

Harry could see the mirth in the headmaster's eyes as he peered directly at someone at the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by our caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors," Dumbledore said.

"Quidditch trials will be held the second week of the term," Dumbledore continued." Anyone interested in playing for their House team should contact Madam Hooch.

"And lastly, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is strictly forbidden to everyone who doesn't wish to die a most painful death."

A few people laughed, but it quickly died out. "Is he serious?" Harry asked Penelope.

"Must be. He usually gives a reason, like everyone knows the forest is full of dangerous beasts such as acromantula and centaurs. I didn't hear anything about it at the prefect's meeting."

"Well, don't let me douse your spirits," Dumbledore said once more, projecting his voice over the rising din in the room. "Class schedule will be handed out at breakfast tomorrow, and I suggest you all get an early night. Your prefects will guide you to your common rooms. Off to bed!"

Harry dutifully followed the rest of the Ravenclaws out of the Great Hall. The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students both had to go up the great staircase, though they soon departed ways as the Gryffindors kept going up. The Ravenclaws had a long passageway before another staircase put them on the fifth floor, and then _another_ corridor led to a set of spiral stairs put them somewhere in the west of the castle, though he may have gotten disorientated along the way.

They crowded around the entrance portal to their common room, which was blocked by a large bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Harry was surprised when the thing started talking.

"_What is once in a minute, twice in a moment, and never in a thousand years?" _The knocker asked.

"It's a riddle," a prefect explained. He was quite tall, maybe an inch over six feet, and had brown hair in a bowl cut. "If you answer it correctly, you will be granted access to the common room. Anyone care to take a guess?"

He was clearly talking to the first-years, since Harry saw some of the older students roll their eyes. A girl his age was quick to speak up. "The letter M."

"_That is correct_," The eagle knocker said. The door opened on its own accord, allowing them entrance to the common room

"Nice work, Lisa," the prefect said. "The riddles range in difficulty, and I've never heard one repeated. If you get it wrong, you'll get locked out for a few minutes, though usually someone from inside will open the door for you if that's the case – a chime sounds. Well, in you go."

Harry followed the others into the common room, which was amazing. Several long couches sat against the walls on opposite sides, and one wall had a great hearth in it, unlit. There were several small cushioned seats in front of it.

Elsewhere in the room, there were many tables, many chairs, a lot of lighting, and several overflowing bookshelves, all of which were meant to induce an ample studying space. Ravenclaw was supposedly the house of keen learners, so Harry wasn't surprised. There were several paintings and sculptures interspersed around as well, including one that was supposedly a bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of Hogwarts.

On the last wall, there were two staircases, each winding up in opposite directions. "First year boys will be on the left, fourth level. Girls on the right, fourth level. You will be in the same dorm for the next seven years. As for the common room, I suspect you will be spending a lot time here, whether it's studying or doing homework, or playing a round of chess with a friend. This will be your second home. I don't want to bore you, so why don't you all go check out your dorms."

Harry's dorm was situated above the seventh years and below the second years. The dorm itself was the circumference of the actual tower, minus the stairs. There were four four-poster beds spread out in the room, with a window between each. There was a nightstand with a lamp between each bed as well, and a wardrobe, along with a thick rug covering the stone floor. There were warm tapestries covering the walls as well, which made the dorm seem inviting.

Before Harry went to bed, he and his dorm-mates introduced themselves. He would be living the next seven years with Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein. When Harry finally did manage to get to his bed (which was very comfortable), he fell asleep quickly, and with a huge smile on his face.

He had never been happier in his entire life.

* * *

Obligatory Author's Notes:

It's been awhile since I've posted anything. I've done a lot of writing, but hadn't had the urge to publish anything. The difference with this story is that I've already finished it. Well, I've finished the entire first year at least. I will post each chapter as I finish editing it.

Don't worry though, I don't find first year fics all that interesting either. There's only so much you can change in the first year while keeping it interesting, and relevant for the rest of the story. The whole thing is about 30,000 words or so. We all know the best action starts happening in the fourth year, so I want to get there as quickly as possible, while still covering the important aspects. And don't worry, this story isn't just a simply rehashing of canon either. And if you've read my profile, you know I detest most cliches (though my earlier stories may give you a different impression), so you know you don't have to read about crazy wandless magic, uber magical trunks, ice queen!Daphne, harems, or heir-to-the-founders!Harry. We all know those ideas suck, so you don't really have to worry about them.

As for the pairing itself, at this point it just represents a friendship. They're eleven, you sick fucks. And we all know that putting it as Harry/Daphne will get more story hits than if I just left it blank.

As always, if you spot any major spelling or grammar (or plot inconsistencies) feel free to point them out - I'm not perfect and I won't pretend to be. I'm very good at taking critical reviews, and I will respond to legitimate questions, and I will laugh at those who want Harry to become a dragon animagus for no reason.

Oh, and one last thing so I don't get yelled at. I took the riddle from a riddles website, google riddles and it'll probably be the first result, since I'm unimaginative.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awoke from the best night of sleep ever. He had his own bed - his own bed that was more comfortable than anything he had ever slept in… ever.

He said good morning to other three boys and then continued on to take the best shower in his life. After, he dug through his trunk at the base of his bed, putting some of his clothes into his new wardrobe. It was nice to have a set of new clothes too, ones that he could call his own.

Robes though…. At least they couldn't be called a bathrobe. They were more of an academic robe, and it was standard to wear normal clothes beneath. Popular rumor was that he'd be thankful for the robes once he was in the bowels of the castle for Potions class.

Going down to breakfast with the other Ravenclaws was a bit of a chore. There were constant whispers, and students looking and pointing at him. They were all talking about him of course. Harry was already annoyed by it, but at least his roommates seemed to be used to his presence already and taking it in stride. Still, it was very rude to just openly point at someone.

Breakfast was even better than dinner the night before. It was a meal he had only dreamed of before; bacon with a side of bacon. It was excellent.

Schedules were passed out as well, just like Dumbledore said. The head of House Ravenclaw was a diminutive man, and professor of Charms. Filius Flitwick was his name, and he was very excited to meet Harry, because his mother had been one of his favorite students. That brought as smile to Harry's face, knowing that his mother left a lasting impression on someone.

His schedule looked like it was a random mash of classes, with no class appearing at the same time more than once. He had Potions first thing after breakfast, all the way until lunch, since it was a double period class, but the next time it was schedule was in the afternoon and it was a single class. It also noted that he had the class with the Hufflepuffs. If the professor had to teach each year twice, and there was seven years, then that was a whole lot of classes to schedule. Harry would later learn that there was only one class for each of sixth and seventh years since not many people got the required grade to continue the class after their O.W.L. testing.

Aside from his schedule, an owl brought him a note from Hagrid asking to join him for tea in the afternoon, which Harry promptly wrote back accepting. He'd find time later in the afternoon if he could.

Harry was actually nervous for Potions. It would be his first ever class about magic, though he would admit that potion brewing didn't sound as exciting as conjuring fireballs and lightning bolts, or slaying Balrogs with an ancient sword forged by elves.

Nerves or not, Harry diligently followed the Ravenclaw prefect who was showing the first years to their classes. Harry was thankful for that, since he was quite sure they would have gotten lost.

The dungeons were cold and damp, and Harry thought that magic could probably fix that, but then the thought came to him that the magic probably made it that way on purpose, to add to the ambiance.

There were quite a lot of rooms in the dungeons, as each class had their own. Harry couldn't say what was special about the one that he found himself in. Perhaps it was the pickled animals floating in glass jars that lined many of the shelves on the walls. There was nine Ravenclaws total, the five girls Harry learned to be Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, Morag McDougal, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin. They all diligently took seats at the front of the room, and Harry found himself seated next to Terry.

Five minutes later the Hufflepuffs arrived with their yellow and black robes. There were three girls and five boys, though he couldn't remember all of their names.

The Hufflepuffs hadn't been seated for fifteen seconds before the door opened once more in a rush of air, and the pale-skinned professor stalked into the room, his black cloak billowing out behind him. It was a nice effect.

He stopped at the front of the room and gazed about, his eyes staying on Harry just long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He began with roll call, which Harry paid extra attention to so he could try and learn all the names. When the professor was done, he leapt right into a speech.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he said in a voice barely more than a whisper. Everyone leaned in to catch every word, and it took no effort for Snape to keep the class silent. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death…"

"Macmillan!" the professor barked, suddenly turning towards the Hufflepuff. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Ernie Macmillan's eyes bugged out at the sudden question, but he recovered after a few seconds and thought about it. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny, he answered, "A sleeping potion."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Good. Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death. One point for Hufflepuff."

Snape turned his attention to the class, looking for his next prey. No one dared say a word, and no one wanted to meet the man's gaze. His eyes settle on another Hufflepuff.

"Megan Jones…" Snape drawled, looking at a petite brown haired girl. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"A stomach of a goat," the girl answered quickly, before adding, "…sir."

"Yes. Swallowing a bezoar will save you from most poisons. One point for Hufflepuff…"

Snape prowled the room again, daring a student to make eye contact with him. Again, no one dared to meet his gaze. He eventually stopped at a raven haired Ravenclaw with green eyes and a lightning bolt shaped scar.

"Harry Potter…" the man said, giving Harry a stare that could freeze the sun. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing," Harry said promptly. "It's called aconite as well."

"Indeed," Snape murmured. "One point for Ravenclaw. I'm glad to see at least a few of you did some reading this summer. For those of you who didn't, as I'm sure there are a few of you, I hope you were copying all that down."

Snape moved up to the front of the classroom. It looked to Harry as if the man was a little disappointed; perhaps he was hoping that someone didn't know the answer.

"Potions are just one part of a larger field of magic, that of Alchemy," Snape said, starting the lesson. "It is also the easiest to understand, and the one most used in day-to-day life. That is why we teach how to brew potions here, instead of Alchemy. If you prove yourselves worthy of advanced study in your sixth and seventh years, I will give you an introduction, but it is a more advanced field of study than any you will find here. It is a field most studied outside of Hogwarts, and you will need a recommendation if you want to get an apprenticeship, a recommendation which you can get from me if you prove yourselves in my class."

Snape slowly paced back and forth at the front of the classroom, deciding on what to say next. "You will know if you are doing well in my class. Excellence will be rewarded, and slackers will be… " Snape didn't finish the sentence, instead letting the threat hang in the air. "To understand how to brew a potion, you must first learn proper brewing techniques. And that can best be demonstrated through the brewing of a simple boil cure. You will find examples of several different processes and techniques as we make it. Before we begin, I will also point out that this class and Herbology are closely related. Many of the plants you handle there are used as potions ingredients, and I suggest reading 1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi, for the common alchemical uses. The same goes for Appendixes C through L in your potions textbook, for the inorganic ingredients. I suggest memorizing the level zero and level one ingredients by the end of the semester. If you don't, you may find yourself having… difficulties. Proper brewing is more than just following instructions, but for now, getting yourself acquainted with the lab is important. Pair up into groups of two and begin."

Harry got paired with a girl named Lisa Turpin who was in his house, though he hadn't yet had a chance to talk to her. She was a short black-haired girl with glasses, and she was smart. It seemed like there were more kids in Ravenclaw with glasses than without, but that was probably just coincidence.

Making the potion wasn't actually that difficult, though the preparation took longer than the actual brewing. Lisa and Harry worked pretty well together, despite neither of them having any experience at all – she mentioned that her mother strictly forbade her from playing with her cauldron. Following the instructions wasn't too hard, though they did look up each ingredient during the process to try and understand the role they played in the potion.

Snape ended up giving them five points for a well-brewed potion, while many of the others were adequate, but not exceptional. Still, it was a very long class, and Harry was happy to finally leave the cold, dark dungeons to get lunch in the Great Hall.

Sadly, Charms class wasn't nearly as good as Potions had been. But at least they got to use their wands, though they hadn't learned any spells yet. Filius Flitwick was a very excitable professor, who had been a dueling champion some fifty years ago. They mostly went over the importance of proper wand movements, as to prevent possible catastrophic miscasts.

The class was only normal length, so Harry found himself with a few hours before Dinner, so he did what any Ravenclaw would do, and found the library. And what a library it was. Ten times larger than the largest library he had ever been in, it was massive. Books and tomes and textbooks and grimoires and trade journals and volumes and every other synonym Harry could think of were stacked in shelved that went from floor to ceiling.

It was awesome.

He didn't know where to start. He couldn't even fathom where to begin to think of where to begin. He raced up and down the aisles, well, not raced, that would get him kicked out - he fast walked. There were books on everything, from how to raise blistercoils (whatever those were) to conjuring a hailstorm, and the history of countless subjects. Harry wasn't a huge fan of history, but he was desperate to start using magic, and the more spells he learned, the better. He wanted to learn _every_ spell.

He grabbed a book about earthen transfiguration and headed towards the nearest table. He hadn't even had a transfiguration class yet, but he was getting visions of creating giant sand monsters from… sand.

Just as he was rounding a corner, he slammed right into someone, and he fell right on top. He was walking so fast he couldn't avoid her. He blinked a few times to get the stars out of his eyes, before realizing who exactly he had laid flat. Much to his shame, it was Daphne Greengrass.

"Oh, sorry about that Daphne," he apologized. He helped the girl up to her feet. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone else in the library so soon."

"The same could be said for you."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm the one who did end up in Ravenclaw, and you did give me a lot to think about on the train."

"So what caught your interest?" the Slytherin girl asked with genuine curiosity.

Harry held up his book to show her the title, and she promptly laughed. "What's so funny?" He asked.

Daphne held up the same book.

"Oh," Harry said in surprise. "Great minds think alike. Want to go through it together?"

"Sure. I know it's not magic that is anywhere near our level, but I am interested in what we should be aspiring too. Though being an Animagus like McGonagall would be interesting."

"You had Transfiguration already?"

"Yeah. McGonagall showed us that she can turn into a cat, and then transfigured her desk into a pig. Then she took roll call, and told us we're going to be turning matches into needles, which is a bit anticlimactic. So I'm here to sate my curiosity…"

"I just picked the book because I liked the cover. I wasn't that picky when choosing. I just want to read about magic."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Let's get started then."

* * *

Transfiguration class went exactly how Daphne said it would. A cat was sitting at the professor's desk, jumped off, and transformed back into the professor herself. It was pretty sweet. Apparently becoming an Animagus is very difficult, so difficult that there are only seven registered in the entire world. That fact sort of made Harry excited to be learning Transfiguration from one of the best.

Though, the first class was boring. Roll call, and several unsuccessful attempts to change a match into a needle. He did get his needle to roll around without him touching it, which was neat. It was his first attempt at magic, at least purposeful. All those incidents when he was younger were just triggered accidents and he didn't count them.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned out to be a disappointment. Professor Quirrell had a terrible stutter, which made it hard for him to be understood. He had to write the incantation down on the board while he demonstrated nonverbally, otherwise a miscast could occur. Still, it took so long for Quirrell to explain the Leg-Locking jinx that the students never did get to practice it, though Harry did appreciate that the professor was teaching them a spell in the very first class, even if the spell seemed like it would do nothing but annoy the hell out of many students.

Herbology was a boring class. Something about man-eating plants did make Harry want to learn a lot of fire spells, but they would really be working with much tamer plants. Growing them wasn't nearly as interesting as making a potion out of them, though he did understand the importance of the process.

Astronomy was a bit… something. He was annoyed that it was late at night, and it got very cold at the top of the highest tower, and windy. The main reason why Harry didn't like astronomy was because there was no actual magic. He was learning about the importance of star movements in relation to various subjects, such as Herbology and potions, but he wanted to be blowing stuff up with his wand.

History was much of the same, except instead of Professor Sinistra, who was an attractive thirty-something blonde witch, they had a ghost. The man had been teaching at Hogwarts, died one day, and then continued teaching as if nothing happened. He had a dreadfully boring monotone voice, and had barely taken roll before teaching about a goblin rebellion that occurred in Hogsmeade before the founding of Hogwarts. Harry found himself occupying his time by reading through another library book.

The class he was most looking forward too was flying lessons. Ever since he had heard of Quidditch he wanted to try flying. That class had turn into a bit of a disaster, which tended to happen with the Hufflepuffs. They showed a lot of promise during the first Potions lesson, but during the second they managed to melt two cauldrons. There was nothing like a molten heap of pewter to get the day started.

During the flying lessons though, they managed to break three brooms. One after another, they tried to call them up into their hands, only for them to rocket through the air and explode with a detonation. Harry wasn't sure what the big problem was, since the old beat up Cleansweep Three responded to him perfectly, even though the broom was over fifty years old.

He even got to fly around a little bit, though not above eye level. There would be a lesson every week for the first few weeks until everyone got acclimated with them. They were also told that there are open flying sessions when anyone can come down and fly around, and that there were also frequent Quidditch pickup matches outside of the scheduled season. That did get his interest.

But perhaps the most interesting thing that happened all week, even more interesting than flying, was his meeting with Hagrid. He had been invited for tea, and was welcome to bring friends. Harry brought Daphne, who he considered a friend after their library raid.

Daphne was a bit unsure about having tea with Hagrid, since she hadn't even met the half-giant before, but expanding her list of contacts was always a smart thing to do.

Hagrid lived in a wooden hut at the edge of the forest. There was a crossbow and a massive pair of galoshes outside, and there was a vegetable garden at the back of the hut.

When Harry knocked on the door, they heard a frantic scrambling inside followed by several loud barks. Then he heard Hagrid's voice, saying, "Back, Fang… back"

The door cracked open and Hagrid's face peered out. "One second," he said. "Back, Fang"

The dog stopped barking and the half-giant turned back towards the first-years, and his face broke into a grin. "Harry! I'm glad you came. And who's your friend?"

"Daphne Greengrass," she replied quietly. She was a bit intimidated by the massive man.

"Well now, don't be shy. Why don't yeh both come inside and tell me about yer first week. Been nearly fifty years since I had a class meself…"

Harry took a seat and immediately scratched the large boarhound behind the ears. Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked, and slobbered all over Harry's shoes. Hagrid offered them a platter of rock cakes, and the two kids were too polite to decline. They were shapeless lumps with raisens, and nearly broke their teeth, but they pretended to enjoy them as they talked about their classes.

Hagrid wasn't judgmental, and Harry laughed when he called the caretaker a git, and he to feed Filch's cat to Fang. As Harry was talking, he spared a glance at a newspaper that was sitting on the table. It was The Daily Prophet.

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts and 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry had heard a rumor that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but he hadn't heard a date.

"Hagrid," Harry said slowly. "This happened on my birthday. Do you think it happened while we were there?"

Hagrid looked very uncomfortable at that moment. He refused to meet Harry's eyes, and Harry knew something was up.

"That package you picked up from the vault… the Hogwarts business… the article says the vault was emptied that day."

Hagrid shook his head. "It doesn't concern yeh, none of yeah. It _is _Hogwarts business."

"You did tell me that Gringotts was the safest place in England, aside from perhaps Hogwarts," Harry mused. He suddenly had a thought. "Funny that an entire half of the third floor corridor is closed off, I wonder why they'd need so much room to hide whatever was in that package… what is it anyways? What's so valuable to risk breaking into Gringotts for?"

Hagrid continued to shake his head. "You didn't hear that from me. I ain't saying nothin'. What's in that package is strictly between Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore."

"Nicholas Flamel? What does the Alchemist have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Know that name, eh?" Hagrid shook his head again. "Damnit, I need to keep my mouth shut. Just like your mother, you are, she never missed a detail either."

Daphne was very interested in the conversation. "Flamel and Dumbledore figured out the twelve uses for dragon's blood, didn't they?"

Hagrid had temporarily forgotten that Daphne was in the room, since she barely talked. "Aye. Though Flamel's more famous for creating the – no, I'm not falling for that, no, not me."

Daphne's eyes widened. She exchanged a meaningful glance with Harry, as if she knew exactly what Hagrid was talking about. "You can't be serious. They're hiding _that _in the school… with children?"

Harry caught on quick, and put on a look of surprise. "No freaking way….Wouldn't having something so… _valuable_ in the school be putting us all in danger? If they're willing to break into Gringotts for _it,_ surely they'd break into a school."

Hagrid sighed in defeat. "Ruddy kids, don't know when to mind their own business," he grumbled. "Too smart for your own good, no wonder yeh ended up in Ravenclaw, Harry Eh, the Philosopher's Stone is protected by the most ingenious spells the professors could think off, and even something from me, I daresay any thief would struggle with Fluffy, let alone a half dozen enchantments. "

This time both Harry and Daphne were speechless. "A Philosopher's Stone! At Hogwarts?"

"Didn't you… damnit, yeh tricked me again, didn't yeh?" Hagrid moaned. "Oh, Dumbledore's going to kill me."

"No one is going to tell Dumbledore," Daphne said quickly. "He did say anyone going to the third floor corridor would die a most unpleasant death. Who is Fluffy?"

"I ain't falling for that twice. Now you understand why it's none of your concern. If word were to get out of what was in the school, half the wizards in the world would be clamoring for a chance at it. I hope you two can keep a secret better than I can."

They both nodded their heads quickly. They still hadn't gotten their heads around the fact that a _Philosopher's Stone_ of all things was what had nearly been stolen.

"Alright, why don't you lot get out of here, sneaky children. I think I'm going to go the Hogsmeade for a pint or five."

Harry and Daphne quickly left, but they weren't halfway to the castle when Harry asked, "So, uh, what's a Philosopher's Stone?"


	3. Chapter 3

The weeks after Hagrid's big reveal weren't all that interesting. Harry couldn't help but feel Hagrid gave up the information about the Philosopher's Stone way too easily, though they couldn't actually do much with what they learned.

Daphne, after rolling her eyes, explained what the Stone could do, or at least, what popular theory suggests it could do. Nicolas Flamel was something over half a millennium old, but wasn't forthcoming with information about his discoveries, so little was actually known about the Stone, and even less about how it's made.

Either way, an infinite amount of gold and immortality didn't really appeal to Harry, though he could see how it would entice people. Personally, he had a massive amount of gold in his vault already, and he didn't have a desire to be immortal with a skinny eleven year old's body, and just the whole concept was a bit daunting. That didn't stop him from being very curious about the thing though, but knowing that it was guarded by enchantments cast by many of the school's teachers outweighed his desire to see it.

Harry didn't really give the Stone that much thought after the first few days, and he and Daphne went back to their normal routine of studying. Sometimes they just did their homework together, though it was pretty easy, but some of their extra time involved Daphne telling Harry about all the magical things he missed out on growing up with the Dursleys.

They learned a few spells together as well, as after the first few weeks of classes Harry got the hang of using his wand, and he had practiced long and hard at make sure his wand movements were fluid and precise. He didn't just read a list of incantations, trying to know as many spells as possible. Instead, he made sure he could cast the ones he read, which were quite varied. It was one thing to have knowledge, but it was another to have knowledge and not have the discipline or power to act on it.

Harry figured that as long as he kept practicing magic, regardless of what spell it was, he'd slowly become more skilled, and his repertoire would grow at a manageable pace. He sort of felt sorry for that Hermione Granger girl, who had her nose buried in books all day long, but Harry hadn't heard of her ever actually practicing what she learned. Daphne Greengrass on the other hand, was with him every step of the way, learning every spell he did.

All that being said, Harry felt comfortable with exactly seven spells. Well, eight if you could the 'lumos' spell and the quick flash version as two different spells rather than just a controlled variation. Learning to actually cast spells was not easy, and a lot of times he found himself sweating and struggling to get the wand movements down, just to keep a small ball of fire from extinguishing.

It wasn't all study though. Harry barely talked to Daphne outside of the Library and whatever abandoned classroom they decided to practice in. He only shared two classes with the Slytherins, and they mostly kept to themselves, and Harry always ended up working with his own housemates on normal classwork. He liked them well enough, though he couldn't really say he was best friends with any of them. They weren't very perceptive though, as Harry wasn't even sure they realized he was studying magic with a Slytherin girl rather than with them. That could just be that Harry was extra conscious about his surrounding though. He couldn't get enough of the moving and talking portraits, suits of armor that moved around on their own accord, and secret passages connecting random parts of the castle together. It was all very magical.

Harry hadn't really interacted with the other houses all that much, as it seemed that for the most part, each house kept to themselves. He shared a few words with random people, and returned greetings in the hallways, but no one really pestered him, which was nice. He could deal with staring and pointing and whispered words well enough.

October was coming to a close when Harry realized that he had been studying too much, and he decided to follow the rest of his house on Saturday to watch his first ever Quidditch game. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, which was a heavy rivalry. There was also the fact that Gryffindor had apparently lost every match last year, and hadn't won a game since some Weasley had finished his seventh year. It seemed like there was a million of that particular red-haired family.

The Gryffindors had two new players this year, so the rumors were that it would be an interesting match. Interesting didn't necessarily mean it would be a good, or fair, match though. It would be interesting in that the Slytherin team was all solidly built guys, and the Gryffindor team was half female. The Slytherins were known for playing very dirty, and using the rule book to their advantage.

The game did actually turn out to be interesting. Quidditch proved to be pretty awesome to watch. Players flew by at half-a-hundred miles per hour, their wake knocking hats off the students in the stands. Chasers would dodge past bludgers, and everyone was hoping to see one strike home. Watching the Seekers was fascinating too; they were so tense, just waiting to see the Golden Snitch.

The Gryffindor Seeker was actually very interesting to watch. Harry found himself watching the girl Katie Bell quite a lot. It was her first ever official game, but she had a grace and fluidity to her as she moved through the air, her sandy brown hair flying in the wind behind her… He had the sudden urge to befriend her even though she was a second year and in Gryffindor.

Harry knew he couldn't get on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. There were no tryouts as there were no open spots on the team (though some teams would still hold tryouts when that happens), and first years weren't allowed on the teams anyway. Harry wasn't even sure if he liked flying enough to try and incorporate a sport into it. It was exhilarating and scary at the same time.

The most interesting day occurred on October thirty-first, the tenth anniversary of the defeat of the Dark Lord, and his parents' death. Most people forgot about that little detail. There would be a grand Halloween feast, but Harry's mood sucked.

Daphne had explained to him that the date was far more significant than just being the day of the Dark Lord's defeat, or some Muggle holiday. In fact, the Dark Lord had probably chosen that day to kill Harry and his family for one simple reason; it was Samhain, the day where the spirit word and mortal realms are at their closest, and the old magics at their strongest. Some wizards consider it the most important day of the year, while others haven't even heard of it, or denounce it because of their ignorance.

Harry was quite excited to follow Daphne through the festival's rites. There was no official celebration at Hogwarts, so the students who still practiced the old ways had to organize it themselves, and even then, they practiced in private. It would not due to be ostracized by the general populace, due to their preference of holidays. If history had taught them anything, it's that people love persecutions, as long as it wasn't them.

That's why Harry found himself in a random abandoned classroom on the fourth floor with Daphne Greengrass. There did seem to be an infinite amount of extra classrooms in the castle, since between all the students and their classes, they only used like twenty.

Since Harry didn't know the Rite, Daphne thought it best if they did their ceremony in private. They cleared a circle in the room, by pushing many of the chairs and desks off to the side, then sweeping the dust away.

"The bonfire doesn't have to be big," Daphne explained as she set up the logs. Harry wasn't sure where she got them from, though she had properly prepared for the ceremony several days in advanced. "It's more of a symbolic thing."

They didn't know that many spells, but the Slytherin witch knew all the ones for what they were doing. A whispered word later, and the bundle of sticks and logs caught fire, and a second word kept the smoke suppressed.

"Rites and Rituals are frowned upon by the Ministry, and a lot of them are just outright banned, and if your caught practicing them, you could face a fine, or even prison. Most of them are fairly benign and harmless though, but they've had a bad connotation associated with them for centuries now. I guess they don't like that they require a sacrifice, even if that sacrifice is something like a special wood, or a bit of blood. The Rite of Flame is our most basic Rite, one that any witch or wizard can perform, so it's good for a novice.

Harry paid very close attention to her words. Rites like these were not exactly written down in books, at least those that are readily available to the public. He had been looking forward to the day ever since Daphne had told him about it. The idea of having his own set of traditions, set apart from the Muggle ones the Dursley's had, was quite appealing.

Daphne produced a satchel full of ritual supplies. There was a silver athame, a shallow bowl, a piece of chalk, and a handful of white twigs. Harry was quite interested in what she would be doing with them.

"I have written the most common version of the Rite down. As you get older and become more accustomed to the Rite, you will be able to change it to fit you, as it is the intent behind the words rather than the words themselves that make it work. They're just an expression of your desire."

Harry took the offered paper, and read it several times as Daphne set up. Then, she began reciting it.

"Hear these words, hear my Rite. These are the words that I live by.

I shall not use my magic to kill.

I shall not use my magic to enslave.

I shall not use my magic to reach beyond the mortal realm."

The bonfire flared up, illuminating the room. Daphne hadn't done anything but kneel before the fire. The flames looked to be living, and they were almost mesmerizing. Daphne made sure all of her ritual stuff was close enough to her before continuing.

"I beseech the Aspect of Fire to grant me a boon, for here are my sacrifices.

I give my magic willingly, to strengthen my soul."

Daphne took one of the white twigs, cracked it, and threw it into the fire, which flared up into a brilliant yellow. Harry knew the twig to be a representation of her wand, and her ability to use magic.

"I give my soul willingly, to strengthen my blood."

Daphne took the piece of chalk, and drew a rune in front of her. It was a vertical line with two triangles coming off on the right side, drawn inside of a circle. As she completed the circle, the rune flared a bright blue color briefly. Then, she smeared the circle with her hand, causing the fire to flare up again, this time a bright red.

"I give my blood willingly, to strengthen my magic."

Daphne took the athame, and cut the palm of her right hand with it. She didn't gasp in pain, and she methodically let her blood flow into the shallow bowl. The cut stopped bleeding after about fifteen seconds.

She then took the bowl, and splashed her blood into the bonfire, which sizzled up in a dark purple. The heat off it was tremendous, but she didn't flinch.

"I vow to never forsake my magic, never to betray my brothers and sisters, and to never do wrong to myself. I beseech the Aspect of Fire to judge me worthy."

All at once the fire turned into a column of flames, a myriad of blacks, purples and reds. It seemed to pulse with life, purging the shadows from the room with its brilliant flare. It settled down suddenly, and Daphne released the breath of air that she had been holding.

To Harry, it almost looked as if she were glowing, but she wasn't. It was like something was tingling at the edge of his perception, but not quite visible. Daphne looked confidant, and had a smile on her face. The way she held herself now made it seem like she was an entirely new person, but she looked just the same as she had been before the rite, though perhaps a bit sweatier.

"It's as easy as that," Daphne said. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Harry wasn't scared. He was nervous. Though at the same time, something at the back of his mind was telling him that this Rite was taboo, and if people learned that he had done it, he would be shunned. But it was the fact the he was doing something controversial that spurned him on. The possibility of getting caught got his adrenaline pumping, and even excited him a little bit. He knew not all rituals were like this - involving a blood sacrifice - and that not all of the celebrations involved a ritual, but he still wanted to do it.

The young wizard took the same position that Daphne had, kneeling in front of the fire. He knew that once he began, there would be no going back, and he was determined to go through with it. He said the same words that Daphne did.

"Hear these words, hear my Rite. These are the words that I live by.

I shall not use my magic to kill.

I shall not use my magic to enslave.

I shall not use my magic to reach beyond the mortal realm."

The bonfire flared up just as it had for Daphne, but what he didn't know was how intoxicating the feeling would be. It was euphoria, and a sense of weightlessness.

Daphne had explained what the lines meant. Using magic to kill and enslave were self explanatory, and Harry wasn't malicious and had no vicious tendencies. When Daphne told him that the final line meant, in general terms, necromancy, just the thought of it made him uneasy, so swearing to forsake it was simple. He was eleven after all, so it wasn't like he would actually be able to do it regardless.

Harry said the next set of words. "I beseech the Aspect of Fire to grant me a boon, for here are my sacrifices.

I give my magic willingly, to strengthen my soul."

He took the white twig, just like Daphne had done, snapped it, and threw it into the fire. It again flared up to a violent yellow color, and it felt to Harry like the room was filling up with static electricity, and goose bumps formed on his arms. It was an odd feeling, yet somehow empowering.

"I give my soul willingly, to strengthen my blood."

Harry drew the same rune Daphne had, though he knew nothing of how they were actually used. Daphne had simply explained that it acted as a focus, just as a wand did, and that this particular rune was roughly translated to 'soul'. The circle around it was infused with a little bit of magic, and then breaking the circle symbolized giving the soul to the flames.

"I give my blood willingly, to strengthen my magic."

Harry picked up the ritual athame, and didn't hesitate in drawing blood across his palm. It actually didn't hurt at all, and the blade was very sharp. He let the blood gather in the bowl, until the cut healed itself. The magic in the room was nearly palpable, and Harry was fairly certain the athame healed the wound it caused.

He took the bowl like Daphne had done, and splashed his blood into the fire, causing it flare up purple again. At least he knew he was doing it right. Sacrificing your own blood is one of the mainstays of rituals, because it's one of the most powerful symbols, and blood can be very potent magically. Also, blood is of great importance to many people, making it an even greater sacrifice to shed it.

His blood sizzled in the fire, and he could feel the magic in the room coalescing. He had just a few more words to say before his first rite would be complete.

"I vow to never forsake my magic, never to betray my brothers and sisters, and to never do wrong to myself. I beseech the Aspect of Fire to judge me worthy."

The bonfire flared up in a column of flames again, brighter than the sun, and hot. Shadows dissipated from all the corners, leaving only the purifying flame at the center of the room.

Harry could feel the power coursing through him. He had never felt anything like this before. It was pure magic, humming and radiating, flowing through his veins. He felt like he could conquer the world. Endorphins and adrenaline and magic buzzing around in his body were making him giddy. It even felt like his perception had increased, or maybe he was just more focused. It was the best he had ever felt.

"That was awesome," Harry said to Daphne. She smiled back.

"The first Rite always has the most profound effects. "The next time you do the Rite of Flame, it won't quite feel the same. The effects will fade, but never disappeared, and the next rite sort of rejuvenates it. As long as you keep to it, you'll be asking yourself how anyone could live without it."

"It's like the magic is alive inside of me," Harry said. "I know I've only been using magic for two months… but this is something else entirely. I feel connected to everything around me."

"That's because magic is all around you, and you've connected your magic to that of the Earths. We are Earth's creatures just as much as a dragon or unicorn, and now our magic binds us to our nature, as does theirs."

"Okay… can I have that again in ignorant muggle-raised wizard speak?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. She does that quite a lot when Harry is around. "It just means that you'll feel more connected to your magic. For the next few weeks you may find spells coming easier to you, or perhaps a bit more responsive. The confidence boost helps in much the same way, since your magic will match your mood, so you may find yourself finally being able to transfigure something now."

"Ha ha," Harry said sarcastically. "I feel like I should be blowing off steam or something, slinging some magic around to get back to normal."

"Sure, why not," Daphne responded. "I learned of a new fire spell recently. I think you'll like it."

* * *

Chapter Note:

I am aware that the words to the Rite, are quite frankly, awful. Eye-rollingly lame, probably, and it's clear that I'm not a songwriter. I don't have the skill of Tolkien or GRRM to write them into a story, but at least I gave it a try. I guess it's worth mentioning that it's the only rite really spelled out like that in the story, so there won't be another one as cringeworthy as that one. I guess you can call it an experiment, as it was one of the hardest parts to write.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Harry and Daphne had finished their spellwork, they had missed dinner. Daphne had managed to freeze a glass of water, and Harry had learned how to melt a glass of ice without melting the glass.

They headed in separate directions to their respective common rooms. Harry knew one of the upper years sold candy and junk food as a side thing, so at least he wouldn't go to sleep hungry. He wished he knew where the kitchens were though.

The odd thing was that Harry didn't see anyone in the halls at all. Even after dinner, students would be milling about, going to teachers, or just going to meet with friends. But there was no one, which was strange, since there were still a few hours before curfew

Harry went up to the Ravenclaw entrance and waited for the riddle.

"_How many times can you subtract five from twenty-five?"_

After a few seconds of deliberation, two answers came to mind. The first was an infinite amount of times, but that didn't feel right to him, so he answered with his second. "Once. After that you would be subtracting from twenty, not twenty-five."

"Well reasoned," the eagle-knocker replied, before opening up. Harry walked in and saw the entirety of the Ravenclaw house gathered.

"Harry," a prefect jumped and yelled. "Where have you been? We were looking all over for you since you weren't at dinner."

Harry was caught by surprise. "Oh. Well, I wasn't very hungry," Harry said, quickly making up a story. "Today marks ten years since my parents were killed, so I just wanted to find a quiet place…."

Harry was surprised by how quick he thought up an excuse, and how easy it was to sell it. The prefects all looked slightly ashamed for accosting him.

"I guess you didn't hear about the incident at dinner then?" the prefect asked. It was a sixth year girl named Laura Ashcroft. Harry knew she was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and that a lot of the boys considered the auburn-haired girl to be pretty.

"What happened?" Harry replied.

"Professor Quirrell came running into the Great Hall, saying that there was a troll loose in the dungeon."

"A troll?" Harry said with astonishment. "How the hell does that happen?"

"Beats me," Laura said. "Anyways, Quirrell and some of the other professors left to go track it down and the rest of us were sent to our common rooms. By the time they found the troll, a poor first year got hurt. What was her name again?"

"Hermione Granger, Gryffindor," the other sixth year prefect said. "Apparently she was crying in one of the washrooms and her sound attracted the troll."

"Shouldn't Quirrell be able to handle a troll by himself?" Harry asked. "He is the Defense professor after all."

"That's what we said, but it is possible that there was more than one troll. Flitwick will tell us more when he comes back. They are scouring the school to try and figure out how they got in."

Harry paced back and forth in front of a bookshelf. He was far too jittery to be able to sit down for more than a few seconds. He needed to blow something up, though his most powerful spell was a very simple flame starter, the same one Daphne had used to start the small festival bonfire. It was a special fire in that it could start in any condition, but it wasn't exactly an inferno.

Filius Flitwick arrived in the common room perhaps fifteen minutes later. Everyone gathered around the short man, but Flitwick still had a commanding presence and no one dared speak for fear of missing what he had to say. His usual cheerful self was replaced by a somberness that Harry hadn't yet seen from the man

"The other professors and I have searched every room in the castle, and only came across one troll. It was easily dispatched, but not before it assaulted Miss Granger. She's currently in the hospital wing and will make a full recovery within a few days. She said she had read about trolls in a book and thought she would be able to take it out. So let this be a lesson to you all. Books are a Ravenclaw's best friend, yet books are never a substitute for actual experience. And as Miss Granger is a Gryffindor, perhaps she will now know that bravery is also not a substitute for experience. As for where the troll came from, Headmaster Dumbledore is performing an investigation, and I am hopeful he will get to the bottom of it. As for all of you, classes will continue as normal. I suggest you all get a good night sleep."

Harry sort of felt sorry for the girl, though he had barely spoken more than few sentences to her. He didn't really like her attitude. While Granger was memorizing books to recite them back to teachers, Harry had been actually practicing the spells with Daphne. Granger had gotten Gryffindor a lot of house points, though the troll incident had cost her house fifty points. Talk about pouring salt on to a wound.

Harry found that mildly amusing actually.

The days after that were uneventful, as were the following weeks. Harry watched Hufflepuff lose spectacularly to Slytherin, and Ravenclaw picked up a win against Gryffindor, though the game was very close, and a bit on the long side with the final score being 650 to 530.

Daphne had watched the games with him as well. She had no interest in playing, though years of listening to her father and grandfather prattle on about the sport has ingrained it into her mind, so she did follow the matches, and she also listened to professional matches that her family was involved on, over a radio she had. Harry wasn't quite that involved with the sport yet. He couldn't name half of the teams even in the professional league.

The days grew colder as well, even though it had never exactly been hot up in the hills of Scotland. It had been in the 70's at the beginning of September, and now Harry was finding himself thankful for his robes, and his ability to do a warming charm. It took some practice to not set his shirt on fire every time he did it, but Daphne had been adamant that it's an important spell to learn, and Harry tended to agree.

The effects of the Rite had turned into a dull buzz. It was ever present, but he found himself looking forward to the Midwinter Festival so he could perform the next rite.

Something interesting happened before winter even came. Classes had been going well, though Harry mostly stayed quiet through them, just listening and taking down notes. Any shred of new knowledge was filed away in his mind.

But it was nearly a month after the Rite of Flame, when the school suddenly found itself a bit of a conspiracy.

It was lunch time, and Harry found himself chatting with Lisa Turpin about how long it must have taken Rowena Ravenclaw to enchant the ceiling, which had just begun to show snow falling outside. They just got to discussing how many different spells had to be weaved together to get such a realistic effect, and how powerful they had to be to last for a thousand years, when the side doors of the Great Hall opened, and several wizards, and one witch, all wearing dark red robes, entered into the room.

The professors didn't seem to be surprised by their presence, and it looked like Dumbledore was actually expecting them. The headmaster talked in hushed tones with what Harry took to be the leader. Despite everyone in the hall watching the exchange and keeping deathly quiet, Harry didn't pick up a single word.

And then Dumbledore and the group left, leaving the entire hall to converse in whispers.

"Those were Aurors," Lisa said. "My aunt works in the DMLE. If they were here to arrest someone, they would have been in more of a rush, I'd imagine. Perhaps they're here to investigate the troll incident?"

"Wouldn't they have done that weeks ago though?" Harry asked.

"Politics, maybe?" Lisa replied with a shrug. "Hogwarts mostly operates autonomously, so the Ministry has little say in what goes on here. If the headmaster request Aurors, and the Minister was feeling resentful or something, then the request could be bogged down going through the right channels…"

"Granger could be suing them maybe," Harry said. The girl came back to the classes as soon as she could, but her normal demeanor as replaced with a sullen, downcast one, and she barely raised her hand in class anymore.

"Maybe, but it's hard for any Muggleborn's legal action to get anywhere in a court. It's probably something unrelated."

Harry shrugged. Still, it wasn't every day that a unit of Aurors arrived at Hogwarts (according to some of the seventh years, they hadn't ever seen that before). And the teachers weren't very forthcoming about why, so the students took it upon themselves to make up stories.

Stories about illegal love potions seemed to be the most popular, though Harry wasn't sure why. Making a girl obsessed with you to the point where'd she'd do anything didn't seem like a joking matter.

Dark magic was also a popular theory. Usually such instances that were detrimental to other students were punished within the school's rules, but if a spell was dangerous enough, the authorities would be called. Still, illegal love potions and dark magic were some of the more tame ideas.

Harry thought that if it was something truly serious, that it would be reported in the Daily Prophet, but nothing out of the normal had appeared in the paper the next day, and the paper did tend to report on just about everything.

The one thing that was known was that every student was healthy and accounted for, as were all the teachers. That was the odd part, the fact that the incident just didn't add up with anything else, though it pointed to the troll investigation as the most likely reason, just for lack of any other apparent explanation.

But at the back of Harry's mind, he wondered if an outsider had tried to break in and steal the Philosopher's Stone. Only he and Daphne knew about it, as far as he could tell, and they were both good at keeping secrets, and that could explain why no explanation was forthcoming.

So it was to Harry's surprise when a week later, an explanation was given, and it had nothing to do with anyone's' speculation. At dinner, Dumbledore stood up and got everyone's attention.

"As you are all aware, a squad of Aurors visited Hogwarts last week, and it was for a very specific reason. We have waited to reveal that reason until we were confident of its resolution. I have heard some quite amusing rumors, such as someone using Polyjuice to streak through Hogsmeade naked looking like me… though that could just be me using Polyjuice as an excuse to hide the fact that that actually was me… but I digress."

No one laughed at his lewd idea of a joke, though McGonagall did cough to get his mind back on track.

"Yes, hmm. I will explain what happened as best as I can. To begin, it was discovered that one of our student's pets was an unregistered animagus. I will not disclose which student this was, but I will say that the rest of your pets, and all of the school's owls have been thoroughly checked. This animagus that was in hiding has been hiding for the last ten years. You all know what happened ten years ago, and there's not a day that goes by when we forget."

Dumbledore had Harry's attention now. In fact, it looked like the headmaster was staring right at him as he spoke. Harry was well aware of what happened ten years ago, every second of every day since he had started Hogwarts.

"Few details of that night are public knowledge, some because we're still not exactly sure why it happened. For the last ten years, we were fairly confidant how it had happened. Of course, we are talking about October 31st, 1981, the night Voldemort killed the Lily and James Potter and left their son an orphan, and the night his power was destroyed. The Potters had been in hiding for many months, behind very powerful magic. The magic relied on a Secret-Keeper, and as long as the Secret-Keeper kept the secret, the Potters would be safe. This is important to the story," Dumbledore explained. "But the Potters' were betrayed, this much is public knowledge, but it is essential to note. Sirius Black has been in Azkaban for the last ten years, for the betrayal of the Secret, and the murder of thirteen muggles and his friend Peter Pettigrew. This last name is important, but so is one more detail, so please just bear with me."

Dumbledore paused for a second to happily note that everyone in the hall was listening attentively. "Measures were taken back then, deadly force was authorized when appropriate, and putting people in Azkaban without a trial was common, since you didn't know who to trust, and our manpower was spread thin. It was all we could do to keep the tide of darkness in check. Sirius Black was one of the people never given a trial, as his case seemed closed and shut. He all but admitted to killing the Potters."

"So you all may be asking yourself, what does this have to do with today? As it turns out; everything. The animagus we caught was none other than Peter Pettigrew. Unbeknownst to me, or anyone else save the Potters and Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew was named the Potter's Secret-Keeper at the last minute, and with Sirius Black in Azkaban, the truth never came out. But now it has, and we have spent the last week getting the real story. Peter Pettigrew was the one that betrayed the Potter's. Peter Pettigrew was the one that murdered a dozen muggles to frame his own escape. The story of that day says the only part of Pettigrew that remained after the explosion was a finger, and that is because Peter Pettigrew cut off his own finger, and escaped in his animagus form."

"Now, justice has been given. Both men were put on trial in front of the full Wizengamot and Minister Fudge himself oversaw the proceedings, and to separate the current Ministry from that which was run by his predecessor, Minister Bagnold. Peter Pettigrew was given the Dementor's Kiss, and Sirius Black is now a free man, innocent of any wrong doing. He will be spending the next several months at St. Mungo's recuperating from ten years of exposure to the Dementors, and he will be compensated by the Ministry for is his false imprisonment. Expect a full story in tomorrow's Daily Prophet, and with this bit of drama finished, I bid you all an enjoyable dinner."

Harry frowned. He couldn't help but notice the stares that were directed his way. He knew well enough who his father's friends were. That was one of the first things he researched. James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. He knew that Black was in prison, and Remus Lupin was somewhere out of the country and had been for some time, having left right after his whole world fell apart in front of him. His mother's best friends were Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were permanent residents of the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's wizarding hospital.

These were all names that he looked up, as he desperately wanted to get away from the Dursley's permanently. Sirius Black was interesting though, since people started calling him Voldemort's second in command after that night, and how everyone always knew he would follow his family's path to evildoing (that word made Harry snicker). Harry wouldn't pretend to understand that time period and everything the people then had to go through, but it seems like one of those 'hindsight is 20/20' sort of things.

Harry didn't know what to feel. He didn't even know if he should be feeling anything. Harry couldn't remember his parent's friend's faces, so he had no connection to them. Hell, he couldn't even remember what his parents looked like, since he was just a baby when they were killed. He couldn't find pictures either, though he didn't exactly search high and low for them.

He decided he wasn't going to do anything. He figured that if Sirius wants to get to know his best friends son, he could contact him, but Harry wasn't going to initiate it.

Harry did learn a lot the following days, as there was many newspaper articles about the case. He learned a lot about the wizarding justice system, and that the case was big enough to have warranted an emergency Wizengamot session. The whole thing was meticulously recorded and done by the books. Minister Fudge was gaining popularity, since he was fixing the mistakes of the previous Minister.

Harry hadn't grown up during the worst of the war, yet he was still appalled by the measures the Ministry was forced to take to ensure its integrity. There were magics so powerful that they could control a person's actions without anyone being aware. It reminded Harry of the early Communist scares of the 1950s that he had learned about.

He learned that Sirius Black wasn't the only one shuffled away without a trial, and the Ministry would be reviewing old cases to make sure there were no more mistakes, but that could take them months or even years.

The young wizard found himself with a lot on his mind as the weeks passed by. He had found it hard to study at times, so he had taken to playing exploding snap with some of his housemates. The wizarding game turned out to be quite fun, and a good distraction from everything that had happened. The case was all the world could talk about, even weeks later, and it was getting annoying.

Winter break snuck up on the castle while the Ministry was _still_ covering the Sirius Black case. Harry was the only first year staying for the break, since everyone else had families at home. Without Daphne there, Harry didn't know what to for the Midwinter Festival's Rite, but he doubted anyone still at castle could or would help.

A foot of snow had come from somewhere, seemingly overnight. Left to his own devices, Harry didn't do much, rather, he just enjoyed the silence of the castle. The only spell Harry worked on was a flash charm which was like the normal Lumos, except it was a very bright flash that lasted a second and meant to disorientate. It wasn't terribly difficult, which was just a flash of light that didn't have any impact on the physical surroundings at all, but it wasn't in the first year or second year curriculum, and Harry had checked. He didn't want to spend time learning a spell just to have it taught during class.

Harry knew it was dangerous to be practicing magic and learning spells on his own time, but he did have a slight sense of adventure, though he was very meticulous in his procedure. There was a fine line, and Harry didn't feel like he was anywhere close to crossing it.

The students had only been gone three days before Midwinter was upon them. Harry was surprised to find a package on his nightstand, addressed from Daphne. He was glad to see that Daphne hadn't forgotten about him, and included the verses to a song commonly sung at Midwinter Festivals. In addition, she included a bracelet of charred wood strung on a piece of unicorn hair. Daphne explained that the wood was from her village's bonfire, and that it would bring him good luck in the upcoming year. He folded the song in half and put in his pocket, and immediately fastened the wood bracelet to his wrist. He could feel the subtle magic coming off of it, sticking to his skin. It reminded him of nature.

There were very few people in the castle for meal times. There was Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and the Ancient Runes Professor, Bathsheba Babbling, who looked to be even older than Dumbledore. There was a scattering of students, the youngest of which was probably a Hufflepuff third year by the name of Charles Sterling. There was so few people at Hogwarts that there was only one table set up for everyone, and they filled maybe a fifth of it.

Dinner wasn't the interesting part though; it was what Harry did afterwards. There was nothing in the castle at all to signify the Winter Solstice, so Harry had to make due by using the same room he and Daphne had used for Samhain.

Harry knew there were many types of magic, and not all of them were so easily categorized as charms or hexes and the like. During the sorting ceremony, they had sung the Hogwarts anthem, and Dumbledore had commented that music was a magic greater than any they taught there. Harry took those words to heart as he created a small bonfire in much the same manner that Daphne had done, and he began to sing the song of Midwinter.

It was a song about the last feast of the year, before the deep cold settled in. The last of a village's cattle would be consumed, as to not have more mouths to feed through the winter, and the first of the fresh batches of beer and wine would be drunk. It was a song about merry singing and dancing, and about community. It was the observance of the passing of the Sun god to that of the Moon god, and for the next six months, prayers would be dedicated to the Moon.

The song itself was more like a story, and it was long. And Harry couldn't carry a tune to save his life, but it was fun – though that was mostly because no one was there to make fun of him. He had trouble finding the rhythm to the words, but the story itself interested him greatly, as it was made during a much simpler time where magic was the primary focus in one's life, rather than just a tool.

He had thought he was all alone, until he heard a hauntingly melodic and beautiful voice take up the song. He looked around to see who it was, as he hadn't heard a door open. It was obvious why after a few seconds.

The voice belonged to the Ravenclaw ghost, the Grey Lady. Harry hadn't ever heard her speak before, as she was a very sad, lonely ghost, but her voice was lovely to listen too. The ghost was even dancing in the light of the small bonfire, causing her ethereal form to flicker oddly. She was twirling herself around, causing her ghostly dress to fan out, and there was an odd grace to her movements. It was an interesting experience, all things considered.

"That was beautiful," Harry said to the ghost after they finished the story song. The ghost just looked at him back, though the sadness that was usually present in her face had turned into a small smile.

"It is always nice to see a child partaking in the old ways. So few do…"

"I love it," Harry said honestly. "The feeling of the magic, the knowledge of the culture, the sense of belonging I feel, which I didn't have before Hogwarts…"

The ghost floated closer to Harry. "You have been blessed, child, I can see it in your soul. Continue on this path, and you will do great things for our world, I can see it."

"Blessed? How so? I've only just started learning about the old ways…"

"It means somehow in the past performed the Rite of Life upon you as a baby. When I was still alive, the 'old ways' as you refer to them we all we knew, so every child had the Rite of Life performed. It helps in early childhood where many of us would die before we would come into our magic."

"When did you live?" Harry asked curiously. He realized it was a bad question when the ghost suddenly turned away. But he was still surprised when she answered.

"The 900's," the Gray Lady said simply. "Even with the Rite, which some would call a prayer, more children would die than live to adulthood. But your generation has standardized medical practices, spells, and potions, which ensures that nearly every child has the chance to grow up. So, many of you think the old songs are unneeded now, and many have been forgotten. It saddens me, since there is so much more to magic than that."

"The 900's?" Harry asked with surprise. "Did you know the Founders?"

The ghost turned around and bored her ethereal eyes into Harry's. "You are an inquisitive child," the ghost said. "My mother would approve of you."

"Your mother?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw. I was once known as Helena."

"Oh, wow," Harry said with awe. That the Gray Lady was the daughter of one of the Four Founders was astonishing. He would never have guessed.

"Very few know that information," the ghost said. "I do not give my name out lightly, for reasons you will probably figure out when you inevitably leave this room to go digging into my past."

"I won't tell anyone," Harry said firmly.

The ghost nodded her head. "It was nice speaking to you, Harry James Potter," she said, before fading out from the room.

Harry looked around to see that she had truly left, and she had. The magic of the bonfire had made itself known, even though he hadn't actually performed magic. There's power in words though, and in song, and he was feeling giddy about the whole thing. Hell, he talked with Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, and that seemed like a special moment that might not ever happen again.

Harry sighed as he extinguished the bonfire. Chances are, that would be the best night of the whole winter vacation, and there were still two weeks left. That was not a good feeling.

He wished he knew how to clean a room of all magical traces, if that was the right phrase, or if it was even possible. He knew a spell to freshen the air, and he knew a spell to scrub the stone with, but that just removes the physical trace. He'd have to think on it.

It wasn't that celebrating around a bonfire was illegal or anything, he'd just rather not have to answer those kinds of questions. The Boy-Who-Lived shouldn't be practicing the old pureblood traditions, he should be singing about Santa Claus and reindeer, and other nonsensical, whimsical flights of fancy.

But no, Harry much preferred the songs about the harvest and the moon. After experiencing the magic, he couldn't see it any other way.

* * *

Notes: I didn't trust my songmaking skills to come up with a long ballad to be sung. You can just imagine some song from your favorite folk band. I have a bad habit of naming stories after songs, and this story is named after a song by Blackmore's Night called fires at midnight.

Also, a note about chapter 3. There is a difference between a Rite and a magically binding oath. Harry said some words and evoked some magic, but he in no way restricted his future use of magic, that's not the purpose behind the Rite. It's just something Harry will think about as he grows older, and he will come to realize that someone like Voldemort has gone against all of it.

As usual, if you see any glaring spelling/grammar errors, feel free to tell me.


	5. Chapter 5

Christmas came, and Harry was surprised to see a present on his nightstand. He had told all his friends to not give him any gifts, since he didn't celebrate it. Hell, there had to be Jewish or Muslim wizards somewhere in the word, so it's not like it could be a cut and dry issue.

What annoyed him the most was that the single gift he got had no nametag on it. At least that removed the obligation of having to give something in return. The note that came with it was straightforward at least;

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

The handwriting was narrow and loopy, and quite elegant. He hadn't seen it before, but his immediate guess was to say it was Dumbledore's. The other option was Sirius Black, but that didn't seem right to Harry.

The gift itself was something else. He didn't realize what it was at first, when he opened up the package and a shimmering cloak rolled out onto is bed. He got the shock of his life when he actually put it on, and saw his whole body turn invisible. In retrospect he should have at least checked to see if the thing was cursed, Professor Quirrell had been spending a lot of time teaching how to recognize dangerous magics.

Harry didn't even know there was such a thing as an invisibility cloak. He had done his fair share of reading but he had never encountered one, so that meant that it had to be rare. And it was his fathers, which made it special. It was the first thing he owned of his parents.

Walking around in the cloak made him realize a few things. The first was that he still made noise when he walked, so he would need to learn a spell to muffle it. The second was that he needed to research the cloak, just for his own peace of mind. He wanted to know what other kind of rare artifacts there are in the world. He knew of the Philosopher's Stone, and speaking of which, he suddenly got the urge to go explore the third floor corridor, now that he could do it without being seen.

The cloak opened up a lot of possibilities. The note said 'use it well', and Harry wondered if Dumbledore envisioned that one of Harry's first thoughts was to see all the knowledge locked away in the restricted section. Then again, he was a Ravenclaw so the thought had to have crossed the headmaster's mind.

Curiosity won out in the end, and he found his way to the third floor corridor. The door was like most doors in the castle, at least, the ones that didn't move around on their own, or were just walls pretending they were doors. This one was wood and had a metal doorknob, and when Harry went to open it, he found it was locked. That was expected.

He tried the one unlocking sell he knew, _alohomora,_ but the door stubbornly remained locked. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing that now he had an actual reason to go to the library. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised that a first-year charm didn't work on the door. It couldn't be that easy.

Harry didn't wear his new cloak into the library. He was fairly confident that he would find a suitable spell in the normal section of the library, without having to resort to restricted knowledge. There were ten thousand books in the place, maybe more, and he'd only read a few dozen since the start of the year. Doing some basic math, he realized he probably wouldn't even finish a tenth of the library by the time he finished Hogwarts.

As it turned out, there were many ways to get through a door. A blasting hex would work well, but the spell was dreadfully complicated, and far above his skill level. And there was a portable hole; a complicated magic device that when placed on a solid surface, it would create a hole that went through it to some predetermined depth.

There were several transfiguration options as well, but again, far above his skill level. He could turn a rock into a bar of soap, and not a very big one at that. Changing the mechanism of a charmed locked would not be within his reach without a lot of extracurricular practice, and he just didn't find the subject all that interesting. He much preferred the flashy spells, like making stuff explode or burst into flame. To him, that's what magic was in his mind.

Harry's options came in two different flavors. The first was to learn a more powerful unlocking charm than _alohomora, _which was found in the Standard Book of Spell, Grade 1_._ There were several that looked doable, but would take some time to learn. The second was to try and dispel whatever magic it was that was keeping the door locked. Those spells ranged from moderate to extremely difficult, though he did see that some of them, like 'the ray of sanctification' would erase all magic from an area, which would have been useful on Midwinter. He was pretty sure the Hogwarts house elves took care of that though, but he'd rather not chance it in the future.

Harry didn't want to limit his options, so he checked out six books from the stern librarian, Madam Prince, who just looked at him oddly when he left. It was an unusual selection of books.

He had only managed to start the first book before he went down to the great hall for Christmas dinner. He sighed in exasperating at the evergreen trees with animated birds flying around, and illusionary snow sprinkling down onto the tables.

Harry outright refused to pull one of the wizarding crackers, which contained anything from mice (yuck) to a complete wizarding chess set (sweet). He just had more on his mind than Christmas frivolities, so no one paid him much attention. He'd rather not think about all the happy families sitting at a table, eating a nice meal and enjoying the company, when he had no family to go home to, and didn't like any of the people he was sharing dinner with.

It was six days later when Harry found himself in the third floor corridor once more. In his research, he discovered an important fact; many locking spells can be undone by using the same spell again. So while there were spells strictly used for unlocking or opening, there were actual spells that locked and unlocked with the same incantation, which was neat. It was a matter of using a secondary spell verses a primary spell to get the job done, and in some cases, if the door was protected by other magics, one spell may trigger a trap and the other wouldn't.

The generic locking/unlocking charms were fairly easy. They only had one use, and that was for itself, but he had to be careful to makes sure he wasn't actually putting more locking spells on the door. The broader spells like alohomora and its brothers were more difficult since they can be used for a variety of purposes. It was quite intriguing to Harry.

As it turned out, there were two spells on the door to keep it locked. It took Harry nearly three hours to figure that out, but it was a fun three hours. It was like trying to solve a puzzle. A well practiced _finite incantatem_ got rid of the nullifying enchantment layered on top of the actual unlocking charm, which wasn't a charm on the lock, rather a charm on the door frame, and once he realized that, a moderate unlocking charm worked. The final part was the actual mechanism, which could only be manipulated using an animation spell (or the actual key). He got it to work after just concentrating on moving the gear, rather than the whole mechanism, as it was a simple lock.

Harry was quite thrilled when the door opened with a click, and no traps triggered. He was even more amazed that he managed to work on the thing for three hours without seeing a single person walk by, but he didn't want to press his luck and quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him.

The whole setup was actually quite clever, in retrospect. All three spells weren't that difficult on their own, but used together made it tricky. There were a lot of witches and wizards (and Muggles for that matter) that didn't have an ounce of common sense, and they would get stuck on it, when all it took was a bit of logic and thinking.

Harry only briefly wondered why there wasn't a jinx on the door, but he only wondered that for a second. Inside the room was the real trap. There was a giant three-headed dog, a Cerberus. It's fur as black as the shadows in the room, and its heads brushed up against the arched ceiling. Each one of its heads could bite his arm right off.

It was obvious that the Cerberus was disorientated (in that Harry wasn't already dead yet), clearly surprised to see someone intruding into its space. Harry looked around the room to see if there was another door, and noticed that the beast was standing on top of a trap door.

A warning growl came from the Cerberus's mouths, and Harry took that as his cue to get out of there as quick as possible.

He had only spent all of five seconds in the room, and that was five seconds more than he ever wanted to share with a Cerberus. It was crazy keeping such a beast in the castle, though Dumbledore's start of term words about people 'suffering a most unpleasant death' started to make sense now.

Harry also briefly wondered if the spells on the door were to keep that beast in more than it was meant to keep people out. He didn't spend much time wondering about that though, as the Cerberus had probably made enough noise to wake the entire castle up. He quickly threw his invisibility cloak on and ran, not caring where, but as far away from that third floor corridor as possible. He didn't want to get caught anywhere near there.

Sadly enough, Harry got lost. The castle was a huge place, and more than half of it was unused. Harry hadn't really done much exploring, for this exact reason. If he ended up in a section of the castle where no one walked and with very few landmarks, he could walk in circles for hours trying to get back, especially with the moving staircases, walls pretending to be doors, and doors pretending to be walls.

The rooms themselves never changed (much), at least none of the ones that Harry had ever been in, but getting to the rooms the same way every day was never a sure bet.

The lost wizard found himself in an old abandoned classroom. That wasn't atypical as there are many such rooms, but this one looked like it hadn't seen use in a century. There were old desks and chairs stacked up again one wall, and there was dust an inch deep and cobwebs that could swallow a man. It was very dry, and Harry got the feeling that lighting a fire in the room would be catastrophic.

In one corner stood something not quite like anything Harry had ever seen. It was a mirror, but to Harry, such a mundane word couldn't describe it enough. It was huge, ten feet tall or more, and five feet wide.

The mirror itself was set within an ancient, ornate frame made of silver, which had long ago tarnished, and was quite thick. There looked to be runes carved into the frame, though on a closer look, it appeared to be letters, only not quite. Harry thought it was Russian at first, but after a minute of study, he realized it was actually English, but all the words were backwards.

Whoever created the mirror must have found it amusing that you would need a mirror to actually read the words properly, but with some concentration, Harry managed to figure out what it said.

_I show not your face, but your heart's desire._

Ominous.

Harry did what anyone would do, and stood in front of the mirror to gaze upon his reflection. The worst that could happen would be that the mirror was cursed and all who gazed upon it was turned to stone, or melted out some eyeballs.

What Harry saw in the mirror astonished him. There was himself, eleven years old, unruly black hair, glasses, green eyes, but lacking a scar on his forehead. All around him stood people he had never seen before. There was a beautiful redhead who had the same green eyes as him – his mother – and a man who could only be his father. There were other people there as well, an elder couple, and a few his father's age, but he didn't recognize any of them. They were all looking at him fondly, and with affection in their eyes.

Harry quickly turned around, and saw that the room was still quite empty. It was clear that only he could see them. Was this really his heart's desire? To not be famous and to have a family that loved him?

It was enchanting, to stand there for however long to stare at his parents faces. He couldn't even recall what they looked like, but somehow the magic of the mirror knew, and now he knew.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there, looking at the reflections of his parents, perhaps an hour, maybe more. But all of a sudden there was an intentional coughing sound from behind him, and Harry spun around so quick, wand in hand, that his glasses nearly flew off.

"Are you going to hex me, Harry?" Albus Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eyes. His hands were hiding within a voluminous blue robe, and his half-moon glasses were craning on the edge of his crooked nose.

"N-no sir!" Harry said, quickly stuffing his wand out of site. "You surprised me, is all."

Dumbledore smiled. "I see that you, like many have before you, have discovered the joys of the Mirror of Erised. Have you figured out what it does?"

Harry turned back to the mirror. "The inscription says that it shows what my heart desires, and it somehow knows that I wish I had a family that cared for me, and that I was not famous. Both of which I could have if Voldemort hadn't attacked my family, and both of which I'll never have now."

"In part, you are correct," Dumbledore said. The headmaster's posture shifted ever so slightly as he went into teaching mode. "The Mirror of Erised was created by Morgan Le Fay over fifteen hundred years ago, before even the founding of this school. The Mirror only shows your deepest and most desperate of desires. Men have wasted away before the mirror, seeing themselves rich beyond all measure, or overcoming their foes, or being married to their secret crush. A man who has everything will only see himself. It is unhealthy to dwell on dreams for too long though. The Mirror itself will be relocated in the near future."

"To the third floor corridor?" Harry asked before he realized what he said. He quickly clammed up.

"You are not in trouble, Harry. Curiosity is not a sin," the headmaster said gently. "I can see you have several questions bottled up inside you, so please, do ask, before you explode."

Harry had about a million questions. He hadn't even talked to the man before, so he wanted to make sure he asked the right ones. "Why are you hiding the Philosopher's Stone here? In the school, I mean," he asked.

"I see you have done this properly then," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I can see why the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw. I was quite impressed with your spellwork on the out-of-bounds door on the third floor. As for your question, it's a fairly simple reasoning, though some background information may be needed. I would much have wished to speak to you earlier in the year, but I did not want to let the ramblings of an old man like myself to get in the way of your education."

Dumbledore seemed to think about where to start the story, and Harry waited patiently. It was clear to Harry that the headmaster _loved_ imparting knowledge onto the curious. "I have worked tirelessly for many years, to fight the dark forces that wish to plunge our world back to the Middle Ages. Voldemort was just the most recent self-styled Dark Lord to attempt radical change in our society. When he attacked you and your family that night ten years ago, he attempted to use a curse on you that is so powerful, that its use is strictly forbidden, and anyone who is found having cast it is sentenced to life in prison, or worse. The curse's only purpose is to kill, that's it, and that's why it's so feared, as it has been the tool of Dark Lords for centuries. No one has ever survived it before, until you."

"But sir," Harry said, interrupting the headmaster. "I've heard some opinions that most people don't think he actually died that night, as there was no body found."

"That is true, Harry, very true, and that's where I was going with my story," Dumbledore said with a knowing nod. "I am of the opinion that Voldemort is not dead, that he still exists out there in some form, biding his time, and rebuilding his power."

"If that's true, then that would mean I'm not the only one to survive that curse." Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a smile. "But there are those out there, specifically those in the new Ministry, who do not share the same opinion as me - that he is truly dead. They offer no concrete proof except their deepest wishes, though merely wishing something were true doesn't make it fact. Anyways, just as you had survived, I believe Voldemort did as well, though I know not how. As I said before, no one had ever survived that spell. That brings us back to the Philosopher's Stone that you correctly deduced was hidden here in the castle.

"When Hagrid took me to Gringotts, he retrieved a package from an otherwise empty vault," Harry said, surprised at his own forthcoming. "I learned later on that someone had broken in to Gringotts that same day and that seemed too much like a coincidence."

"A good observation, and you've hit upon part of the reasoning for why the Stone is here. It's a very powerful artifact, and by its very nature, a bringer of temptation. Immortality and infinite wealth, who wouldn't want that? Many people would want it, including fledging dark wizards, and perhaps the Dark Lord himself would try and use its Elixir of Immortality to restore his powers. Do you see where this is going, Harry?"

"It's a trap?" Harry asked in surprise. "The whole thing is a ploy to get Voldemort out into the open, if he truly isn't dead?"

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Word got out that Nicolas Flamel was moving his Sorcerer's Stone, word, that between you and me, we put out intentionally. This isn't the first trap we've set up like this, though it might be the cleverest. I searched for months after Voldemort's defeat, trying to track down any trace of him, and I was unsuccessful. I then started setting up ploys, at first subtle ones, which happened to trap a lot of minor practitioners, but I had hope. There's another long and boring story there in the middle, but all you need to know that I am quite sure of his continued existence, and I mean to trap him once and for all. Curious students aside, and I assure you you're not the first to try and get in, I do feel like the trap will work quite splendidly. That is a not-so-subtle hint that you shouldn't go prying around there anymore. I would hate to see you get hurt as a result."

Harry nodded in understanding. "So there's more than just that door and a three-headed dog guarding the stone?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore replied. "Many of the teachers here collaborated in creating the defenses. As to specifics, I will not say. Any other questions?"

Harry frowned, thinking about it. "My dad's invisibility cloak… you sent it?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Your father and his friends caused a lot of mayhem with that cloak. But alas… Your father and mother, as well as many of their friends, were part of an organization that I ran to counteract Voldemort's efforts. Your father leant me the cloak for the other members to use on missions, and I saw fit to return it to its proper owner."

"It's the only thing I own of his…" Harry said weakly.

Dumbledore gave a sad smile. "I'm sure we can remedy that," he said genuinely.

Harry nodded his head.

"Hmm, alright then, if you have no more questions, you should get back to your room," Dumbledore said after Harry hesitated. "It's well past curfew."

Harry grabbed his cloak and headed to the door. Turning around, Harry said, "Thank you, headmaster."

"Anytime, Harry," the headmaster said genuinely. "My door is always open if you wish to talk."


	6. Chapter 6

The following weeks were pretty crazy, though not really for Harry. Daphne had enjoyed the story of the Ravenclaw ghost dancing around the fire, though Harry didn't tell her the ghost's real identity. She told Harry that he should experience the Midsummer Festival, which has a massive bonfire and a hundred witches and witches singing and dancing around it, all the way until the early hours of the morning.

Daphne was very insightful, though she did say that the first Rite that they had done on Samhain was barely anything compared to what they could do in the future. It was just a drop of water in an ocean, and that got Harry excited.

To compensate for the month-long intervals in between celebrations, Daphne suggested practicing magic during the Witching Hour, the time after midnight, or practicing under a full moon. Harry did notice a difference, when he got up in the middle of the night to try out a new spell. When he should have been sleepy, had had been abnormally awake as he cast his new snaring spell, which damn nearly chopped off the legs of his desk rather than merely entangling it.

That did get him to realize that he had been spending too much time learning random magics that had very little practical use, and not enough time actually studying what was taught in class. He didn't want to get ahead, but he still had to make sure that he understood everything, and the spells towards to end of the year were getting more complicated.

Despite all this, Harry kept himself out of trouble. He had told Daphne what he had gotten up to over the winter break, minus the part about Dumbledore's entrapment plans, but she didn't seem as excited at figuring out how to get past a Cerberus, so Harry largely put the whole thing out of his mind. He didn't even go near the out-of-bounds corridor.

While he kept to his studies, other students in his year didn't. He heard a lot of crazy rumors. Most of them either contained Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, or both. Harry wasn't sure which rumors were true, or which were just overblown tails, but he did find many of them highly amusing.

It had started off with a duel between the two, apparently they had a thing out for each other's families and it cumulated during a flying lesson. That was over six months ago, though he didn't recall hearing anything about it at the time. He did remember hearing a rumor that it was somehow Ron Weasley's fault that the Granger girl got injured by the troll. He doubted the validity of that rumor, but it was amusing.

Granger and Weasley were apparently friends (Harry wasn't sure how that could happen if it was Weasley's fault that she got injured), with Weasley doing as much as possibly to lose points, and Granger doing as much as possible to gain points. It was an interesting dynamic. But apparently, that somehow turned into them getting caught _smuggling a baby dragon_ into the school, by none other than Draco Malfoy. That had earned them all detentions in the Forbidden Forest, including Malfoy who had been just as guilty of being out in the castle after curfew. That much was confirmed, as the severe loss to their house points could attest to, as well as witnesses who saw them going into the forest with Hagrid.

Harry didn't envy them. There were rumors of all sorts of nasty beasts in the forest, such as man-eating wolves, and wolf-eating bears, and bear-eating spiders. It was not a nice place for any student, especially at night.

Something bad had happened in the forest during that high-profile detention, and as such, there were many rumors again. Some say Draco Malfoy had been bitten by a werewolf, though that seemed decidedly untrue, or that they met some foul creature that was preying upon unicorns and drinking their blood. That seemed even less likely, somehow, and was a bit creepy to think about.

Either way, there was a lot of talk going on in the castle, and Harry was quite happy that none of it was directed at him. Harry had done exactly nothing of note the entire year. He earned house points at a steady rate, answered all of the professors' questions, passed in exemplary work, and was more than proficient in practice. No teacher had anything bad to say about him. He was a model student, and if he kept it up, he would be the obvious choice for prefect come fifth year.

All the professors knew that many things could change in the upcoming years though. Bad students can get the right amount of incentive to become great students, and seemingly prodigious students can self destruct. They had seen it all before, but it was too early to tell for the first years. Once they started getting interested in the opposite gender, all bets were off.

Several Quidditch games had come and gone as well, with Gryffindor doing surprisingly well with their new seeker, though Slytherin was close behind. Their chaser line used a lot of brute force and devious tricks to get ahead, along with enough knowledge of the rules to not get into too much trouble. Harry was actually looking forward to watching the final matches of the year – the sport was actually pretty entertaining… though probably in the same way people loved watched gladiatorial games.

The Vernal Equinox was coming up soon, which Harry was looking forward too, but he got a surprise letter before then.

_To Harry._

_I hope this letter finds you well. You may not remember me, Merlin knows I'd like to forget that night as well, but I am your godfather. In the event of your parents' demise, I was to take care of you. As I was imprisoned up until quite recently, the task was given to your only remaining family. Having met the Dursleys once, I can safely say that I would rather be in Azkaban again than live with them, so you have my sympathies, and my apologies._

_As I write this letter, I have one more month of rehab in the Long Term Recovery Ward at St. Mungos. Recovering from ten years worth of Dementors exposure is borderline impossible, but my conviction of my innocence shielded me from the worst of their aura. I apologize for not writing sooner. I have only just started to regain normal writing function, and it took me nearly an hour just to write this much, and have it be readable. _

_I know you don't know me, and I don't know what you've heard about me, but if you want somewhere else to live during the summer holidays, then I can help you there. It would be the least I could do. My cousin has graciously offered to let me stay with her for the foreseeable future, and she has extended that offer to you as well. _

_Sincerely, _

_Sirius Black._

It wasn't the most graceful or eloquent letter ever, and the legibility in some parts was a bit iffy. The man had been out of the Dementors' presence for six months, and he was still shaking… Harry was quite sure he never wanted to be near one of those foul creatures

He was intrigued though. He'd rather live with pretty much anyone rather than the Dursley's. Hell, he was almost of a mind that he'd rather live at an orphanage. It was an easy choice to accept the offer from the unknown man who had spent ten years in hard lockdown.

Harry showed the note to Daphne after Charms, which had been a semi-interesting lesson on mirror charms. Any flat surface could be turned into a reflective one, which can be used to great effect to annoy the heck out of someone. It was different than transfiguration, which involved actually restructuring an object into a flat reflective surface, but with transfiguration you could control a lot more. Still, the charm might come in handy someday, especially since transfiguration of that caliber probably wouldn't happen until the fourth or fifth year.

Harry trusted Daphne with the contents of the letter. She was his best friend here, and while he knew her family had chosen the wrong side of the previous war (though mostly be their association with family friends), he didn't judge her based on that and she didn't judge him either. Daphne was kind to call him a first generation pureblood (though that phrase made him laugh), since both his parents were magical, and she always judged people by their actions. While her housemates were prattling on about trivialities like blood traitors and Muggleborns, Daphne and Harry were actively trying to improve themselves. He was a wizard, not a child pretending to be aristocracy, though some of Daphne's descriptions of her housemates were quite amusing.

"I can't say I know for sure who this cousin could be that Sirius is talking about," Daphne said after reading the letter for a second time. "It could be Narcissa Malfoy, or Andromeda Tonks. It says that _she_ has offered to let you guys stay, and would love to have you there. That's not something the Lady Malfoy would have any control over, so my guess is Andromeda Tonks. She was disowned from the Blacks, just like your godfather, so that makes more sense to me."

"Huh," Harry said surprised. "I don't remember reading about disownments."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Obviously, that's the whole point of being disowned. I don't recall any particular reason, but the Blacks have always had a history of being… sociopaths."

"Yeah, I read that Sirius wasn't the only Black in prison. Except that his convicted cousin is guilty of about a billion crimes, since she actually got a trial."

"I do not wish to talk about Bellatrix Lestrange," Daphne said with a visible shiver. "There are still occasional remarks in Slytherin about some of her more vicious moments, and I do not want to think of it. It was before our time."

Harry shrugs. "I think I will take Sirius's offer. Living in a wizarding household will allow me to practice magic. Well, supposedly. I'll at least have access to books and such, maybe brew a potion or two."

"And if they follow the old ways, perhaps you'll get a chance to see the Midsummer Festival. It is quite an experience."

"Speaking of that, which Rite are we planning on doing?"

"I was thinking the Rite of Flourishing. The Rite of Spring is more impactful for the upcoming harvest season, white the Rite of Flourishing will benefit us more since we are nearing our growing years. With your invisibility cloak, we can sneak out into the forest and do it proper."

Sneaking out into the forest wasn't Harry's idea of a good time, especially not at night. Nearly anything they'd encounter in there could be quite dangerous if provoked, and more than a few would consider them prey. They didn't know nearly enough magic to fight anything with more than an XX rating. And the recent detention into the forest was still on his mind.

But if they went in peacefully with good intentions, then most creatures would ignore them. Emotions tend to hang heavy in the air in dense magical areas, and the Forbidden Forest was positively ancient.

Trees grew thick and tall, and the floor was covered in moss. In some places, the forest canopy was so thick that barely any snow had reached the ground. There were mundane animals such as squirrels and foxes, but if you looked closely enough you could see minor magical creatures, such as bowtruckles, pixies, and faeries, though they always seemed to disappear upon closer inspection.

The forest was a potion brewer's haven. Harry could hardly recognize one plant in five, though he didn't fancy getting to close to the wild venomous tentacula that was growing on a small stream, or the firevines that were hanging down from the canopy above, looking for prey to incinerate and consume.

They went about half a mile into the forest, and were careful to mark their path with luminescent markers. It wasn't easy at night, and it was probably one of the stupider ideas the two students had ever thought of. That being said, the forest was serene, and neither of the two students ever felt like they were in danger.

Not a sound could be heard as the two students settled on a place for the Rite. If animals were watching, they were watching with anticipation, as if they could sense the intentions of the two. It was not often that humans would venture that far into the forest to perform old magic.

Daphne and Harry began the process of clearing a small area. They had to be very careful when creating a fire in the forest, as to not burn the whole place down. But at the same time, they didn't want to ruin the natural habitats of creatures living there.

As usual, they didn't need a huge bonfire. For two people, one that was only a couple feet high was more than enough. Calling such a fire a bonfire was a bit of a misnomer, as most people associate bonfire with massive flames, but the term was actually associated with the festivals that involved them, rather than the fire itself.

The Rite of Flourishing didn't actually need a bonfire, but it put the two students into the right state of mind. As was customary for this particular Rite, they cleared another small patch of land nearby, one for each of them.

Reaching into her pack, Daphne pulled out two large tree nuts. One was Holly, the same wood as Harry's wand, and the other was Cherry, the same as Daphne's wand. They both had an innate connection to the wood, as it was a representation of their connection to magic. Symbolism was a big part of ritualistic magic.

Harry took his nut over to his spot, and using his hand, he started to dig a small hole. It had to be deep enough so animals wouldn't dig at it, yet shallow enough to get the proper nutrients. Once satisfied at the depth of the hole, he dropped the nut in.

The Rite was next. Daphne had acquired a second athame for Harry to use, and he did so. Blood was one of the simplest sacrifices one could do, yet one of the strongest. There would always be bad connotations when the word sacrifice and blood were used in the same sentence, but the vast majority of such rituals were quite benign. And as it was his own blood, Harry honestly didn't see what the problem was.

Letting his blood drip from the athame's cut, Harry allowed it to pool at the bottom of his freshly dug hole. The cut healed quickly, the magic of the athame seeing to that, so he cut himself a second time, allowing more blood to accumulate. It wasn't really a sacrifice unless you truly felt it, so Harry allowed himself to bleed to the point here he started to feel numbness in his hand. It took some conviction to do this, but Harry was quite firm in his belief of magic.

Satisfied, Harry allowed the cut to heal. He then chanted the words that Daphne taught him.

"Just as I grow, so will my tree. And so as the tree grows, so will I."

Harry could feel the magic coalesce around him as the effects of the Rite began to take hold. He wasn't done yet though. Taking the soil he dug up, he began to fill the hole back up with it, making sure the nut was covered, and once that was done, he made sure the spot was compacted and level with the ground.

Finally, Harry cut himself once more, allowing his blood to flow into the freshly dug topsoil above the Holly tree nut. He didn't enjoy the feeling of cutting his own palm, but there was no better way of doing it. At least there would be no scar left.

The completion step was straightforward. Harry took a dry branch from a fallen tree and held one end in the bonfire. The dry needles quickly caught, so he moved the branch over to where his blood-infused soil was.

Quickly dipping the flaming brand, Harry allowed the fire to snake onto the ground, lighting up his blood immediately. Satisfied, he threw the branch back into the bonfire so he could observe the results.

The blood burned brightly, the potency of the magic causing it to burn a bright green. Then, all at once, the Rite of Flourishing finished, and the fire disappeared as if it never existed.

Where the fire once burned, now stood a sapling, perhaps a foot tall. Only magic could have caused the tree to grow as such, and having completed the whole Rite without using a wand put a smile on Harry's face. The results were quite satisfying, and he could still see the sapling growing as he watched on.

Looking to his left, Harry could see the Daphne had similar results. Her Cherry sapling was just as large as his. Given enough time, they would grow into strong trees, and the students' magic that had imbued them would insure that they would grow for many years to come.

Suddenly, a figure walked up to them, tall and imposing. Neither one of them had heard of anyone's approached, but most people wouldn't dare attack someone celebrating at a bonfire.

The figure was a centaur, a creature that had the upper torso and intelligence of a human, and the body of a horse. This centaur was chestnut in color, and had a deep, sorrowful voice. That a centaur was able to creep up into their camp was speaking volumes of a centaur's connection to the forest

"It has been years since a human has dared to perform a Rite of Flourishing in our forest," the imposing centaur said.

"We apologize for intruding in your forest," Daphne said placating. The goal of the ritual is to become part of nature, not desecrate it, or disturb it in any harmful way.

"Pardon my words, child. I am not displeased at your actions. Your Rite of Flourishing has delighted me greatly. To see the young perform it has given me hope for your kind. Too many of you have forsaken our ways, too many secrets have been lost, but the Forest will always remember. We always remember."

"Thanks…?" Daphne replied uncertainly.

The centaur nodded his head. "There are many trees of what you call 'wand-wood' growing in the forest, and I shall watch over yours as we centaurs have watched over the others for millennia."

"What is your name, kind centaur," Daphne asked. "so I know who of you has treated us fairly?"

"I am called Ronan. I will gladly welcome you two to the forest any time, and hope to see you perform many boons while at Hogwarts."

"Thank you Ronan. I am Daphne Greengrass and he's Harry Potter. We thank you for your wisdom and the service you have performed to the Forest."

Ronan bowed his head in thanks. "Your words sooth my soul. Too many of your kind would look down on us, but you treat us with respect. Thank you."

Harry let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding, as Ronan the centaur turned around and trotted away. He was glad Daphne was there, for he wouldn't have any clue how to interact with a Centaur.

"That was… interesting," Harry said as they worked to put the bonfire out.

"The centaurs don't miss much that happens within the forest. But we best get out of here quickly, not all of them are as friendly to humans as Ronan was."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He knew that where there's one centaur, there's probably other close by. It wouldn't have surprised him to learn that there were others waiting in the shadow, bow drawn and ready to fire at any sign of hostility. For such large creatures, they managed to move quite quietly through their territory.

It was past midnight by the time they arrived back at Hogwarts. That meant the Rite of Flourishing was the first rite that Harry had done at the most powerful time of the day, midnight, and the magic that comes during the witching hour would ensure that he would feel the effects of the Rite for many weeks to come, and that the wand tree would grow at an impressive rate.

Harry, though, was just satisfied that they made it into the Forest, and back out, without injury. He had a feeling that the magic of the Forest ensured that though, and that made him feel great, to know that his forest deemed his actions as worthy, as did the centaurs. It wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done, but he decided the results were well worth the risk.

Perhaps next time, they'd perform a ritual under the full moon. They'd have to be extra careful though. If a werewolf were to walk up on them, it probably would greet them with fangs, rather than words. Harry knew that sooner or later, his luck would run out. He just hoped he'd be skillful enough when it happened.


	7. Chapter 7

It was nearing the end of the semester, and the end of Harry's first year at Hogwarts. The teachers were really piling them with homework to make sure they got the basics down, for everything they would learn in the next six years would build upon what they had learned so far.

Harry was in the library, working on an essay for Professor Quirrell. The stuttering man wanted two feet of writing on the differences between hexes, jinxes, curses, and charms, and how to identify them. Quirrell would be testing their knowledge with four identical objects, and each student will have to sort out which is which.

Harry was halfway through an eloquent comparison of the differences between jinxes and curses, mostly based around the desired effects of the spell, when Daphne entered the Library and headed straight for his table.

That in itself wasn't that uncommon, but she was slightly out of breath, and apparently in a hurry to talk to him. Harry stared at her expectantly.

"I heard the most curious thing just now. We are not the only students who know about the you-know-what," Daphne said, looking around to make sure no one was listening in. "Granger and Weasley were talking about it, and they think someone is going to steal it."

"How are those two even friends?" Harry asked. Officially, Granger had gone after the troll in October because she thought she could handle it, but unofficially the whole school knew than Ron Weasley was making fun of her, and she ran off crying and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Granger should know better, yet she still lets Weasley drag her all over the place and nearly get themselves killed a half dozen times."

"Beats me," Daphne said with an unconcerned shrug. "I told Snape of course. Well, I didn't mention the Stone, so I told him that they were going to break into the corridor. So Snape is off escorting them to McGonagall for punishment, since Dumbledore is at a Wizengamot meeting."

That got Harry's attention. "So, Granger and Weasley think someone is stealing the you-know-what, and Dumbledore just happens to be out of the castle for the first time in months. Coincidence?"

Daphne frowned. "Well, we can always go to one of the other teachers if you think they're right."

"Granger is smart," Harry said reluctantly. "If you're sure you heard them properly, then we could always go to a teacher and voice our concerns."

"Well, if Dumbledore is gone, and Snape and McGonagall are handling Weasley and Granger, that doesn't leave many teachers I feel confident in. In fact, just Flitwick."

"And I know for a fact that today is Flitwick's weekly Hogsmeade visit."

"Damn," Daphne swore. "I wouldn't trust any older students either with the knowledge either. They might just try and take it for themselves."

"Well, that leaves us I suppose," Harry said with a curious glint in his eye. "Are you up for some thrilling heroics? Or should we just pretend like nothing is happening? I don't mind either way, but it might be the only time in our lives that we would ever see a Philosopher's Stone."

Daphne sighed. "So we're going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone so someone else can't steal it… If I die because of this, I'm going to haunt you. But it could be fun. We might learn something too."

"No time like the present, let's go then."

This may have been the stupidest idea that they had ever done. But if they were honest with themselves, they were very curious as to what kind of traps were guarding the Stone. Perhaps that why they didn't try and rationalize too hard not looking for help.

Harry had taken to carrying his invisibility cloak on him after classes were finished, and he was thankful. It wasn't really needed though, since they didn't see a single person as they made their way towards the third floor corridor.

"I guess someone is going after it," Daphne remarked upon noticing the magic on the door was gone. "I will admit I was half hoping that it was still locked."

"I guess that means you were half hoping that it wasn't," Harry jibed. That got a mock punch from Daphne. "I did tell you that there was a Cerberus in the room, right?"

In answer, Daphne opened up the door and looked inside. "It's asleep. There's an enchanted harp playing music."

"Good to know for future reference, otherwise this would have been the shortest adventure ever," Harry remarked. "I was not looking forward to having to set the beast on fire."

Harry followed Daphne into the room, and was still quite wary of the sleeping beast. "Let's not linger too long."

The trap door was quite heavy, and it took both of them physically lifting it to open. Their levitation charms were just not strong enough, and he didn't know a stronger one. The trap door revealed a stone shaft going straight into the ground, smooth on all sides. Daphne conjured a ball of light and let it fall, which it did for about fifteen feet.

"I reckon we will need cushioning charms," Daphne stated. "You remember it right?"

Harry gave her a patronizing look and just jumped into the hole in response. Daphne jumped soon after, and the little light there was coming from the room above disappeared as the trap door closed itself.

They landed on something soft, though Harry was lucky that Daphne didn't land right on top of him. A boney girl falling from fifteen feet up would hurt quite a bit, Harry imagined.

They were both quick to light the ends of their wands with light, showing what they landed on. It was a huge plant, with thick vines and many huge leaves, and it was moving quite a lot, as if it were a living creature. They couldn't contemplate it for too long, as the vines started wrapping around them and pulling them into the plant.

Two shouts of "Incendio!" echoed through the air, as they both recognized the plant as Devil's Snare. It was a highly magical plant, and while it was resistant to fire, to a degree, it still feared it like any plant would, and the two students quickly fell through the vines and onto the hard stone floor below

"Bloody hell, that plant was huge," Harry said, stating the obvious.

"Trust professor Sprout to come up with a man eating plant to defend the Stone," Daphne stated.

"And to think, we're busy growing pansies and tulips, while there plants like that lurking in the shadows."

Looking back up at the plant, Harry couldn't help but make a snide comment. "Remind me why we came down here again, with no way back up?

"Because we're idiots?" Daphne said casually. "It was your idea anyways."

"My idea?" Harry said with disbelief. "You didn't have to tell me that someone was going after the Stone. I would have been quite content to not know, and just gone about on my day normally."

"Fine, whatever," Daphne said with a huff. "There's only one way to go."

The room with the Devil's snare sloped down, and a corridor brought them to a normal looking door. Harry had just been writing an essay about curse detection, and all his and Daphne's efforts showed that the door was normal.

Inside the next room sat a rack of brooms, and the sounds of a thousand wings caught Harry's attention as he looked up into the room. There was a large mass of flying keys, hovering in the air and out of reach, but they didn't look hostile.

The two students walked over to the door to examine it, again it was safe, but no amount of spellwork would unlock it.

"I guess we have to get the key," Harry said nonchalantly.

"The doorknob is ornate, tarnished silver, and it has a large keyhole. So look for a big silver key."

"That narrows it down to about… oh, I don't know, half of them?"

"You got a better idea?" Daphne shot back.

"Yeah, look at the one over there," Harry said, pointing. "It has a bent wing. Whoever was here first must have figured that was the right one."

"Well spotted," Daphne admitted. "I guess that means we have to fly. You want to herd or seek?"

"I'll seek," Harry decided.

The brooms were ancient models, old Comet 120's from the first World War. They were in decent enough condition, but that wasn't saying much.

Daphne and Harry took off into the air on the count of three, and Daphne immediately plowed through the keys, causing the one with the bent wing to flurry away. But as it had a bent wing, it didn't fly so well, and Daphne easily steered it towards Harry, who quickly caught it.

He dismounted and stuffed the key into the door as fast as he could, and as soon as Daphne was through with her broom, he slammed the door back shut. They could hear the remaining keys bouncing off the door trying to get at them, which caused them both to grin.

"Piece of cake," Harry said.

"I did all the hard work," Daphne replied.

"You're the one with the father and grandfather in the professional leagues. I'm just a poor muggle-raised boy."

The new corridor was wide and tall, and it absolutely reeked. In the center of the hallway, sprawled out, was a massive hill troll. If it was standing up, it would probably brush its head on the ceiling. There were sacks of food lining the walls, half of which were probably spoiled, but the real smell was coming from the troll, which was unconscious in a puddle of its own excrement.

Not wanting to get their clothes dirty, and thankful that they didn't have to fight the troll, they mounted their brooms and flew over the beast and went through the next door.

This room had a giant chess set in the middle of it; the checkered play area went wall to wall. It was one of the most impressive things Harry had ever seen, as each piece was life size. They could make out the door to the next room in between the large imposing figures of the black king and queen.

They could both see the debris from a previous chess match scattered throughout the room, and there was what looked like blood as well. Harry didn't fancy getting anywhere near large stone statues destroying each other with swords and lances.

Unfortunately, Harry was quite rubbish at chess.

"What do you reckon?" Harry asked Daphne.

She gave him an annoyed glare and just continued flying over the board and to the other door.

"You coming or what?" she called back.

The entered through the door and dismounted. The new room was small so there was no reason to fly, and as soon as they entered, flames shot up, covering both the entrance and exit.

"Whoever made that chess set wasn't too smart if you could just fly over it."

"Wizards aren't known for their logic," Daphne reminded him.

In front of them, on a pedestal, were several vials of varying size and shape. There was also a piece of parchment.

Picking up the piece of parchment, Harry read it completely before commenting. "That's ironic. It's a logic puzzle."

"Naturally," Daphne replied dryly as she began to read it.

"Logic states that a person would be attracted to trying to solve the puzzle in the room, but real logic states that we should try flame freezing charms."

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," Daphne retorted.

Unfortunately, their luck didn't hold, and the flame freezing charm didn't do anything.

"It must be cursed fire. Very well then, let's do the puzzle."

They both read it once more, and went step by step, eliminating each potion, and narrowing down the list of possibilities. Eventually they both decided that the one all the way on the right was the correct one.

"It's not a lot," Harry said, picking up the vial and holding it up to the light of the fire.

"Whoever got here before had to have drunk this potion already," Daphne said.

"A self-refilling charm perhaps?" Harry asked.

"Could be the vial itself, but it's the same result. You want to drink it first, or me?"

"I'll go first," Harry said. He was curious as to how many traps were left, as they had gone through half a dozen already. Surely not every teacher had a defense set up. Harry couldn't imagine there being a history trap, or one involving muggle studies. Perhaps the next challenge involved changing a light bulb.

His shaking hands gave away how brave he was feeling as he downed the vial of foul tasting liquid. It was like ice was spreading through his body, but it didn't feel like poison. Not that he knew what poison felt like… but it didn't feel like he was dying.

Shrugging, Harry walked up to the fire ahead, and was quite glad to not catch on fire. He opened up the door and walked through.

Harry was happy to see that it was the final room. The room was round and shaped like an ancient amphitheater, with what looked like carved seats and a raised dais in the middle. Harry was surprised to see the Mirror of Erised in the middle, though Dumbledore had all but told him that it would be here.

Putting the broom down near the door, Harry took a few steps into the room to see who was there. He wasn't sure who he was expecting, but seeing exactly who it was that had gotten there first was shocking. The purple turban was a dead giveaway.

"Professor Quirrell!" Harry all but yelled. The man turned around quickly, wand out.

"Harry Potter?" Quirrell said in surprise. "Interesting… I was not expecting students."

In the few second for Harry to notice that the professor wasn't stuttering like usual, Daphne Greengrass entered the room and took her place next to Harry. She was quite surprised at the perpetrator as well.

Quirrell didn't seem perturbed by their presence at all, as if they were insignificant and beneath him. In part, that's because they were. They were first years. Well-read first years, perhaps, but still first years. He walked over to them, unafraid, and the students nervousness kept them from acting out.

Quirrell's hand reached up and hovered above Harry's scar. "Interesting…" the man said. "This is where the curse hit you… blessed by the Seven Sisters, perhaps? It's no matter though; the same mistake will not be made twice."

Harry had no clue what Quirrell was talking about, as the professor turned his back to them to gaze at the Mirror of Erised. "I see myself with the Stone, I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it? Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this."

"Your master? Who do you serve?" Harry asked.

"A curious child, aren't you?" Quirrell said, turning back to the two students. They didn't dare cast any spells, for they didn't want Quirrell to attack them. By all appearances in class, he wasn't a particularly gifted wizard, but he was still an adult wizard, whereas Harry and Daphne weren't. "Who do you think I serve, boy? I serve the greatest Dark Lord to ever live! The Stone is key to his revival so he can walk amongst us once more! And then, Harry Potter, you shall see who my master is."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, but he had a really bad feeling about this. Daphne merely glared at the man, and the wheels in here head were spinning ideas quickly.

"He-who-must-not-be-named," Daphne said softly. "You are using Quirrell as a host to your spirit? Why not Snape - he's a loyal follower of yours, isn't he?"

"He's too close to Dumbledore," Quirrell said offhandedly, once again examining the mirror. "He has hounded me at every step. That troll on Halloween was mine, you know. I've always had a gift with them. It was a distraction, but Snape wasn't fooled… I knew then that I couldn't trust him with my secret. I discovered my master in Albania… he does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

"Enough, Quirrell…" a voice suddenly said. It sounded like it came from nowhere, and everywhere all at once.

It was starting to make sense for Harry now. He had seen Quirrell that very day in Diagon Alley.

"Should I break the Mirror, master?" Quirrell asked to the air. "Is it inside?"

Harry slowly edged to the left, hoping Quirrell wouldn't notice. He wanted to look into the mirror. He knew that if he saw the Stone… he knew that he wanted to get the Stone so Voldemort couldn't. That's all that mattered.

"Use the boy…" the disembodied voice said. "Use the boy…"

Quirrell turned around again, his wand out quickly. "Imperio!"

A feeling of lightheadedness overcame Harry, and he barely even noticed when Quirrell fired another spell at Daphne, which launched her high up and into the wall, hard. She crumpled to the ground, her wand clattering away and the broom flying in another direction. She groaned in pain, but didn't move.

"Look into the Mirror," a voice in the back of Harry's mind whispered to him. That's what Harry was going to do anyways. He walked in front of the Mirror and looked at the reflection.

It was of himself, pale and scared. A second later though, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood red stone. It winked and put the stone back in, and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow, miraculously, he had gotten the Stone.

"Take it out," the voice in his head whispered. Harry's thoughts were heavy as if he were sedated, but much wished to look at the Stone, so he pulled it out as Quirrell looked on hungrily.

Harry held the stone firmly in his hand, as he beheld the legendary Philosopher's Stone. The Stone felt odd in his hand, as if it wasn't actually a stone. For all its mythical transmuting properties, it didn't feel all that magical, and having done a few rites and rituals and in the past year, he thought he would have felt _something._

He inspected the stone closer, taking in the fine details. The Stone wasn't all that refined, and while at first he thought the stone was translucent; the color actually appeared opaque and muddy. It wasn't at all what he was expecting.

Although Harry had never even seen a picture of the Stone before, it just didn't look real. Something about it just screamed FAKE! To him.

Though the haze of his mind, Harry grasped on to one thought, and was able muster up one sentence. "I think this is just a replica."

Quirrell grabbed at the Stone, yanking it out of his hands. The professor waved his wand at it in a complex twirl, a spell Harry didn't recognized. The results weren't to Quirrell's liking as both he, and his master yelled out in anger simultaneously.

All of a sudden Quirrell's wand came up and pointed at Harry.

"Kill them!" the voice of Voldemort rang out. "Kill them both!"

Suddenly, Daphne sprung up from his fallen position, wand in hand, and fired a blinding beam of light at Quirrell, who quickly covered his face with his arm.

The hazy, greasy feeling that had overcome Harry's mind disappeared at once, and he stumbled backwards having regained full control of his body.

"Incendio!" Harry yelled, throwing a spout of flame at Quirrell, who had quickly dodged back after having been temporarily blinded.

"Glacias!" Daphne pointed her wand at the floor, and a small section of the ground turned to ice under Quirrell's feet. The professor had not been expecting it and fell to the ground. His turban came undone in the process, and as he retook is feet, Harry count see the back of his head.

Where there should have been hair, there was another face, small and deformed. It was the most terrifying and horrible face Harry had ever seen, pale white with red glaring eyes, and slits for nostrils, almost like a snakes.

Harry had no doubt that he was staring at Lord Voldemort. It was a horrible sight. But as Harry stood there staring, frozen in fear, Quirrell's, no, Voldemort's wand was in action, sending a wide net and a series of ropes at the two students.

Harry was quick to get back into motion though, and he used the levitating charm to catch the net in midair. Daphne threw her own fire at it, igniting it and causing Harry's levitation charm to fail.

Quirrell was very quick to vanish the net, doing so almost as soon as the net had left his control. His wand spun into motion again, spitting out black beams. Harry was quite sure that he didn't want to get hit by that.

As Harry dove off to the side, he put his arm on the carved stone. He wasn't one to just let his blood go to waste, and Daphne had warned him that if an enemy ever got a significant amount of his blood, bad things could happen.

So he flicked his blood at Quirrell, and right before it would have splattered on the Dark Lord's face, Harry whispered the final line to the Second Rite of Blood, a rite he hadn't actually performed before, causing his blood to ignite explosively.

The spell had surprised Quirrell enough to burn the man's face, but it would hardly stop the man. What it did do was attract the full attention of Quirrell and Voldemort. They had not expected Harry Potter to use magic like that, and they seemed to be reevaluating the young wizard in a new light.

The five seconds that Harry had bought was enough though, and they had momentarily forgotten about Daphne and didn't see her coming. She didn't use a spell. She took the Comet 120 and smashed it right over the Dark Lord's head, swinging it hard enough to snap the broom right in half.

Quirrell fell to his knees immediately, letting lose an agonizing scream. He wouldn't be defeated that easily though, and with an angry swish of his wand, he hurled Daphne into the wall once more, to try and gain some distance from the girl.

Harry saw that coming though, and he saved her with a well timed cushioning charm. Harry was quite certain that the force from the hurling hex would have broken her neck. The young wizard wasn't sure how much more he could do of this. His luck wouldn't hold out forever.

It didn't have to though.

The door to the room banged open once more. Three sets of eyes quickly turned towards the new intruder.

Albus Dumbledore strolled into the room, a look of anger on his face that hadn't been seen in many years. He didn't even so much as look at Harry and Daphne as he pointed his wand at Quirrell. Dumbledore's lips didn't even twitch as a lance of white magic shot from Dumbledore's equally white wand.

The beam of magic pieced right through the professor's body, causing him to collapse. Harry didn't see any blood, but it was quite clear that Quirrell was dead.

A loud agonizing hiss filled the air as black smoke rose from Quirrell's body. Dumbledore seemed to have been expecting this, and he began a low chant.

The headmaster was chanting low enough that Harry couldn't pick out any of the words, and the whole chant lasted maybe five seconds.

The inky smoke seemed to have collected itself, and it rushed towards the exit. Dumbledore would not allow that though, and he unleashed his magic, causing Lord Voldemort's wraith to freeze in place.

Then, with three deliberate wand motions, a blaze of orange steam came from Dumbledore's wand. The steam wafted over the dark wraith, and slowly began to eat at it. Whatever the magic was, it was working.

The angry his turned into a full out scream. Dumbledore's magic was dissolving Lord Voldemort's very being. The whole process took all of thirty seconds, and all that remained was an agonizing scream that seemed to echo with both Harry's and Daphne's head.

His wand still in attack position, Dumbledore waited a few extra seconds to make sure the magic was completed. Once he was finally satisfied, he lowered his wand and beheld the room.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore said, looking at his two students. "Are either of you injured?"

"Just some bruises," Daphne said. She was lucky she didn't have any broken bones from the first time she had been launched into the wall. "Nothing life threatening."

Harry echoed her sentiments.

"That's good," Dumbledore said genuinely, as if he hadn't just smote a professor. "I trust you have now figured out the rest of the mystery, Harry."

"The Stone was never in danger," Harry said. "It was a fake the whole time."

"Indeed. The real Stone never left Nicholas Flamel's estate. If I had borrowed the real Stone, and something had happened to it… well, let's just say that Nicholas would have been most displeased," Dumbledore chuckled. "But for this trap to work, everyone had to believe it was the real Stone. I apologize for my deception, but I could not let my plans be jeopardized."

"So… Voldemort… is he gone for good?"

"Alas, only time will tell. I do not know what powers he held while he was a wraith, nor do I know what magic prevented his death in the first place, causing him to take that form. I destroyed his wraith, but there's no magic in the mortal realm to know if he has truly passed on."

"I think I understand. But how did you know to come?"

Dumbledore smiled at the two students. "Professor Snape contacted me with his concerns, after apprehending Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger. I imagine that if they managed to get here, it may very well have been them I'd be talking to. Both of them have had their suspicions that someone was after the Stone for some time… but that doesn't matter now. I think I must get you both to Madam Pomfrey, just to check you over. Here, take my hands and I'll take us there."

Daphne and Harry both took hold of the elderly wizard's hand, and the strangest feeling overcame him. It was like being sucked through a tube, and it was very disorientating. Flashes of color came from all directions, but the sensation disappeared as soon as it had begun.

"I didn't think anyone could apparate inside of Hogwarts," Daphne said, speaking up for the first time.

"That was apparition?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a knowing look. "Being the Headmaster does have its perks."

Not five seconds after the three of them arrived, the matron of the hospital wing walked in.

"My word, Albus, you nearly have me a heart attack," the school's nurse said.

"My apologies, Poppy. I have two students here who need to be checked over. There was an incident tonight, which I will explain in the staff meeting later tonight."

Madam Pomfrey viewed the two students, before leading them over to separate beds. "Harry Potter," she said, looking at him. "I'm surprised it's taken you so long to come here. Your father barely made it a week before his first injury."

"You knew my father?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Certainly. He was trouble-maker from the very beginning. If it wasn't him or his friends up here in the hospital wing, it was the victim of one of their pranks."

"Sirius Black as well?"

"Yes, all four of them were frequent visitors. Your father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew… It's hard to think about the events that tore them apart…"

The healer went on to say a few other things as she used her diagnostic spells on Harry. But he was too busy thinking about the summer coming up, the first summer without the Dursley's. A summer with Sirius Black…

It was going to be a great summer.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I've been trying to shy away from doing Author's notes, at least to explain in-story things, since everything the reader needs to know should be written into the story. That being said, I had several people note that Dumbledore is never as open about information as he was during the Mirror of Erised conversation, but I knew that Dumbledore didn't tell Harry everything, just enough to satiate a Ravenclaw's curiosity. The same can be said in the final conversation in this chapter. There is a lot Dumbledore isn't saying, but what that is, I won't say :)

This chapter marks the end of year one. I tried to go through the year as quick as possible, without it being a complete rehash. There's probably some continuity errors, and probably a lot of spelling and grammar errors. It's hard to make significant changes early on to keep the story interesting, but at the same time without screwing yourself over 4 years down the line by having diverged too much, where plotpoints seemed forced into the story by the author, rather than going with the flow. People know to expect the Chamber of Secrets in second year, and the triwizard tournament in the fourth, but its how you go about them that makes it interesting, and I hope I can achieve that.

I plan on continuing with story, but I am going to be doing the same thing I did with the first year, in that I finish writing the whole year first before I start posting. At least that's my plan as of right now, so it could be like a month before the next chapter (though the first chapter is already done - it covers part of the summer. The Midsummer festival is that last rite I'm actually going to cover in depth, then I can start focusing on a lot of the small details in wizarding tradition (there's more to it than just lighting a bonfire and saying a few words). I just didn't want to bog down the story too much with a lot of filler, so I tried to space it out. I didn't want this to be one of those stories where it spends 150,000 words just to cover first year. I will also note that I'm pretty much just taking a bunch of different ideas and throwing them together, my idea of wizarding holidays festivals and the like are not based on any one thing in particular, so I apologize if you feel like I've bastardized your religion, as that's not my intent.


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